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SEE, CLEMENCE, A GOOD OMEN. 


look at the NE’VV MOOX.^" 

— Page 153. 










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DEEDS o/ DARING 
DONE BY GIRLS 


By N. HUDSON MOORE 

AUTHOR OF “ CHILDREN OF OTHER DAYS,” “ THE OLD 


CHINA BOOK, 


THE OLD FURNITURE BOOK, 


THE 

LACE BOOK,” “ OLD PEWTER, BRASS, COPPER, AND 
SHEFFIELD PIJX^TE,” “ THE COLLECTOR’S MANUAL,” ETC. 


With Illustrations in Colour 
BY ARCHIE GUNN 



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NEW YORK . FREDERICK A. 
STOKES COMPANY • PUBLISHERS 





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Copyright 1906 

By Frederick A. Stokes CoMPAi^y 
All right! reserved 



This edition published in October, 1906 


UBRARYof CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

NOV 3 1906 

A Cgpyriffht Entry 

0^, I f, 110 t 

CLASS A XM.iNg. 

COPY B. 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 


AN OPEN LETTER 


D O NOT THINK, DEAR GIRLS, 
that because you are girls you may not 
have as much courage as your brothers. 
I believe that quite as stout hearts beat beneath 
muslin frocks as under stuff jackets. When you 
have finished reading this book about your sisters, 
perhaps — if you do not already — you will agree 
with me, and think that it needs only occasion to 
call out the necessary courage. I have been asked 
which one of these heroines I think the most dar- 
ing, but — oh dear — it would never do to have a 
favourite, would it ? So I leave them to you, and 
that you will enjoy learning of their trials and 
triumphs is the wish of your friend, 

THE AUTHOR. 




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CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The Robe of the Duchess 1 

The Princess Wins 53 

Defence of Castle Dangerous .... 96 

The Pearl Necklace 129 

Dicey Langston 220 

The Maid of Zaragoza 265 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ See, Clemence, a good omen. Look at the 

new moon ” ...... Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

“ None looking on my stately Duchess would 

deem that she had but fifteen yeai’s ” . 48 

“ On, for the love of the Daughter of Hol- 
land, and death to those that deny her !” 86 

“ I have commanded this fort. Monsieur, 

during the absence of my father ” . . 124 

“ Coward, shoot now if you dare ! ” . . . 260 

“ What are you doing here, my girl ? ” . . 288 







DEEDS OF DARING 
DONE BY GIRLS 




The Robe of the Duchess 
told bp Jehan, her Page 
in the Year of Grace 1392 


I 

IS NOT SO,” QUOTH 
she, “and you know 
it”; and with that she 
fetched me a buffet on 
the ear. 

Now, when the other pages saw me 
bested like that by a damsel, even 
though she were my Lady, they roared 
and girded at me so loud that I liked 
to have choked with rage. 

I ran forward a step; but she cried 
out, — 

“An you touch me I’ll have you 

whipped, sir”; and, trath, she would, 
1 1 



DEEDS OF DAKING 


which well I knew, for I^d felt ere 
this old Raoul’s whip curling about 
my shoulders, all on her charges too. 
But that was some years since. ’T was 
this wise that the present pother came 
about. 

Of a joyous afternoon in May, my 
Lady Eleonore took it into her head 
to go into the court to see her hawk. 
For these many months I ’d been train- 
ing of it for her, and in all the mews 
there was not another flew so true, 
aimed so swift, and brought back her 
quarry so little torn. 

My Lady knew right well that the 
hawk was for her, but she knew not 
that I thought to give it her on her 
fete day, which fell on the morrow. 
The bird was in flne feather, not a 
pinion ruffed, her russet colour show- 
ing redly in the sun, — it was a Bar- 
berry bird, — and a new hood of flne 
2 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


leather on her head. On her feet, fas- 
tened by be wits of deer’s hide, hung 
two Milan bells of gold, — the one, as 
is ever the way with choicest bells, 
a semi-tone below the other. These 
bells I had begged from Comte Graston, 
who gave willingly enough when he 
knew that they were to pleasure my 
Lady. 

Now ’t was not my purpose that she 
should see the bird till next day, but 
womenfolk ever contrive to mix mat- 
ters up. I thought but to stay her, to 
keep her jesting for a while; but her 
anger rose and was greater than I 
knew. 

She was down in the broad hall on 
her way to the mews, and I following 
behind, before my wits, which work 
ever a thought slow, had conjured up 
something to say. 

‘^Pray, mistress,” saith I, “how old 

3 


DEEDS OF DABING 


be you to-morrow I Let me think, will 
it be all of eleven years ? ’’ 

To tell truth, I knew her years as 
well as she. It was nine years since 
my Lady^s mother. Dame Eleonore of 
Comminges, had brought and left her 
daughter with my Lord, Gaston Phoe- 
bus, Comte de Foix. 

Comte Gaston was my Lady’s cousin, 
and poor Dame Eleonore, her mother, 
fleeing from a cruel husband, knew not 
where to place the child, so sought ad- 
vice from Comte Gaston, a powerful 
and great lord. 

‘‘Leave her with me,” saith my 
Lord, who had taken a fancy to my 
little Lady, then but a child of three. 
She was the first bright thing that had 
come to the old castle of Orthez, which 
was but a gloomy tower since in a 
rage my Lord Gaston had slain his 

only son, and driven forth to her 
4 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


own people his wife, the Princess 
Agnes. 

Canst thou wonder that we all loved 
the child? 

None knew nor loved her better 
than I, being that my Lord Gaston 
gave me to be her page and playfellow, 
since there were but scullery maids 
and some rude wenches in the castle 
since the Princess Agnes went forth. 
So who should doubt but that I should 
know my Lady’s age? Besides this I 
was but four years older come Hal- 
lowe^en. 

Being well grown and tall, she was 
ever tender on the subject of her years. 
By my Lord’s command, she had been 
taught to play on the lute, she could 
walk a measure, hunt and hawk, and 
since the new tirewoman had come, 
there had been much bravery of ap- 
parel. So ’twas but to tease her and 

5 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


keep her from the mews that I put 
forth, — 

“ All of eleven years ? 

“Tis not so, and you know it,” 
quoth she, and then came the buffet. 

I choked down my rage, and turning 
to those that mocked me, thought to 
bring the laugh on her. 

Varlets,” cried I, “my Lady Eleo- 
nore is no longer a child, she chooses 
you to know. Twelve years old will 
she be to-morrow, but two years younger 
than our new Queen Isabeau. And 
who knows what brave suitor comes 
to woo ? ” 

At this they all laughed again, as in 
truth I hoped they would. With a 
black look at me and a stamp of her 
foot, my Lady turns and goes up the 
stair. This pleased me well, since 
the hawk was forgotten. 

“Wit ye well, ye shall suffer for 
6 


THE KOBE OE THE DUCHESS 


this,” sneered one of the pages, be- 
tween whom and me there was ever 
discord. “Your mistress wilt have 
you soundly swinged, and well I pray 
my Lord will do it himself.’’ 

My skin was pricking somewhat at 
the thought, but it behoved me to show 
no signs of it ; so I looked him in the 
eye and flung back, — 

“If my Lord so much as cuffs me, 
thou mayst do it also ” ; and with that 
I strolled to the mews. 

I stroked the hawk, and thought 
how pleased my Lady would be on the 
morrow to have her and fly her too, 
since, to pleasure my Lady, my Lord 
had passed his word that we all should 
fly a cast with him on the broad 
marches that lay to the west a league 
or more. 

Long ere cockcrow the next day 

was I astir. ’Twas a bright day 
7 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


for me, since my Lord had given 
me a new livery. For the first time 
I cast away my leathern doublet 
and put on one of soft cloth, and drew 
on a brave pair of chausses, a red one 
on the right leg and a green one on 
the left, and tied the points to my 
doublet. 

It needed but only a sword to make 
me a man ! 

As I stole down the stair, I crept into 
the great hall to take one look into the 
great mirror of purest crystal which 
had but lately come to my Lord from 
a land far over seas, called Venice. 

What I saw therein causeth me to 
turn hot, since never thought I to look 
so fine. Clapping my cap on my head, 
I ran to the mews, to bathe the feet of 
the hawk in fair water, to settle her 
bells and jesses, and to see that the 

hood could be quickly cast aside. Soon 
8 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


I heard the bustle in the courtyard, 
and hurried thither with the hawk on 
hand. 

My faith, but it was a joyous sight ! 

There on the highest step stood my 
Lord and beside him my mistress Eleo- 
nore. My Lord was smiling at her, 
and well he might, she stood beside 
him so straight and tall. She was in a 
gown of green, made of Florence cloth, 
and on her head was a cap bound with 
many chains of gold, which, she telleth 
me later, came from the same far-away 
country as the mirror, — Venice. In 
their midst was set a stone big as a 
throstle’s egg and blue as the sky. On 
her hips hung a girdle of gold set 
close with little stones of this same 
sky-blue. 

All this I saw as I walked from the 
court’s end. Coming up the steps, 
said I in my bravest fashion, — 

9 


DEEDS OF DABING 


“ Mistress Eleonore, here is the hawk 
I trained for thee ; and I set the Bar- 
berry bird upon her wrist. 

Now, Jehan, I forgive thee,” saith 
she, ‘^and trust thou It bear in mind 
that I be twelve years, not eleven. 
My Lord and cousin hath a gift for 
thee also, and telleth me to give it thee 
now.’^ 

With that she hands me out a sword, 
— a brave, bright sword ! 

And my Lord says kindly, — 

“Have it ever ready in her service, 
Jehan; she is a lonely maid.” 

I bent and kissed my Lady^s hand, 
and saith with my heart in my mouth, 

“My Lord, I'll e'en follow her to 
the world's end." 

''Thou art a good lad, and I trust 
thee"; and as he spoke, my Lord 
smiled. 

True, as I swore fealty to my Lady, 
10 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


I little recked how soon ’t would be 
before I rode away behind her! 

Just then the huntsman wound his 
horn, and we all rode out over the 
drawbridge and away into the bright 
sun and green fields a-hawking. We 
made a merry day of it. The hounds 
sped before, starting up many a creature 
that fied affrighted from us. 

My Lady rode, not her own pal- 
frey, which was a gentle animal but of 
little speed, but a chestnut mare, one 
specially cherished by Comte Graston, 
even though she was a thought too 
light for his bulk. 

For many a day the mare had been 
but exercised about the court, and be- 
ing a high-mettled creature, soon grew 
fretted by the flapping of my Lady's 
habit, — a thing to which she was ill- 
used. 

We were pricking along at a good 
11 


DEEDS OF DABING 


pace, my Lady having her hands full 
with holding down the mare, when 
suddenly from the grass at her very 
feet darted out a fallow deer, a little 
thing scarcely more than a month old. 
The mare started, threw up her head, 
and ere I knew what had befallen, had 
wheeled about and started off like the 
wind. 

‘‘ Jehan,’^ I heard my Lady call; and 
turning my own horse about, I spurred 
him after the flying mare. On we 
sped; the others, passing through a 
copse, had missed seeing our plight. 

Hold fast, mistress,^^ shouted I, 
while I strove with whip and spur to 
get beside her. 

Little by little we crept forward, my 
horse and I, and after that day I ever 
forbore to call him a poor thing. 
First his nose pressed the mare’s thigh, 

and then he came up with the saddle- 
12 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


cloth, and then a bit ahead of that, till 
I called, — 

‘‘ Loose your foot from the stirrup, 
mistress.” 

Even as I spoke I could see that she 
did it. 

‘‘ Lean towards me and drop the 
reins, mistress”; and as I spoke I 
switched my poor nag and leaned from 
the saddle, took my mistress about the 
waist, and pulled her clear of the mare. 
It took but a moment more to set her 
gently on the ground and start after 
the mare, since I knew, if aught befell 
her, our day of pleasuring would have 
but an ill ending. Freed from the 
flapping of the skirt, she gradually 
slackened her pace, and erelong I was 
leading her back to where my Lady 
stood with the tall marsh grasses wav- 
ing about her feet. 

‘‘Help me to mount, Jehan,” saith 

13 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


she, whilst I was turning about in my 
mind how to urge her to let me ride the 
mare while she took the steadier horse. 

‘‘Pray, mistress,” I began; but she 
cut me short with, — 

“ Have a care that my cousin knows 
not of this mishap, since it fairly 
shames me to think how the mare 
bested me. But I was not affrighted. 

At this she gave a side look at me, 
but I knew her too well to show that I 
had noted her white face. I did not 
answer, but pondered if it was not 
seemlier to guard my mistress even 
against herself. When she noted me 
standing and switching of the grass, 
she crieth out, — 

“ Sure, Jehan, it would be an unkind 
part to tell that I was like to be run 
with on my fete day, since all has come 
out well. Promise now that thou wilt 
hold thy peace.” 


14 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


So promise I did, and none guessed 
how near we had come to grief, though 
my Lord, when we drew up with them, 
wondered why the mare looked so hard 
ridden ! 

’T was now well on to noon, and we 
rested by the side of a clear stream, and 
ate of squirrels fresh roasted, and of 
little fishes drawn from the brook but 
half an hour before, and of the honey of 
the wild bee spread on cakes of white 
fiour, and of spices and of wine. 

“ Hast had a happy day, little oneT^ 
saith my Lord, as we sat ’neath the 
trees; and my mistress, turning, laid 
her cheek on his hand and said, — 

“ Dear Cousin, never can I thank 
thee enough for all that thou hast done 
for me^^; and the tears like to have 
fallen. 

“ To see thee happy gives me all the 
thanks I crave ’’ ; and my Lord fetched 

15 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


a deep sigh, thinking belike of that son 
whom his own hand had slain. 

Then, when the sun grew low, home- 
ward we turned, the pages singing as 
we rode along, — 

White as a lily, more ruddy than the rose, 

Brilliant as a ruby that with spark of fire glows, 

Your beauty and your loveliness to me all peerless 
shows, 

White as a lily, more ruddy than the rose. 

My heart for your heart watches ; it pleaseth me 
to know 

That to all other lovers the law of love I show. 

White as a lily, more ruddy than the rose, 

Brilliant as a ruby that with spark of fire glows.’’ 


II 

When we came in sight of the castle 
of Orthez, there rose from the great 
chimneys a dark cloud of smoke. The 
drawbridge fell, and the steward rode 
forth to meet us. 


16 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


“Lo, my Lord/^ he cried, hasten 
home. Whilst thou wert absent here 
hath come a great lord, the Due 
de Berry, with messages from the 
King.’’ 

Hath he a great following ? ” ques- 
tioned my Lord. 

“ Seventy lances and thirty sumpter 
mules. They are cared for, my Lord, 
and all have supped.” 

We hurried forward. As my Lord 
rode into the court, the Due de Berry 
cometh through the door to meet him. 
He was elder than my Lord, and was 
uncle to King Charles, and a powerful 
and noble lord. Never had I looked 
on one so great as he. All France hath 
heard how he taxed his people and 
gathered from them great stores of 
money that he might have gold to buy 
palaces, that he might get from strange 

and foreign countries noble pictures 
2 17 


DEEDS OF DABING 


with which to deck his walls, and tap- 
estries wrought in coloured threads 
and gold. Not only these things did 
he buy, but books enriched with jewels 
and filled with images of saints and 
others, coloured with blue, red, and 
gold. After him rode hundreds of fol- 
lowers when he went to war or trav- 
elled abroad in strange countries. 

As one looked upon him, his face 
seemeth harsh at first, yet a smile be- 
came it well, and he smiled when he 
looked on my mistress, as doth every- 
one who seeth her. 

One, two, three days he tarried. 
Twas said that his matters were de- 
spatched in one, and true it is that 
when my mistress was before him, his 
eyes ne^er left her face. 

Right seemly she looketh, thought I, 
as I stood behind her chair when they 

supped. Never before had she borne 
18 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


herself so bravely, and rich were the 
gauds that tirewoman furnished forth. 
One evening my Lady came into the 
great hall in a gown of cherry red, 
made from the thread of the silkworm 
and wonderous soft and fine. Above 
this was a long coat with wide pointed 
sleeves, and it was bound about her 
with a sash of cloth that shone like 
silver. Her hair was woven with 
strings of pearls, large and white, and 
over her hung a veil like unto a spider^s 
web, set full with shining threads. 
Well do I remember all this, for it was 
the first time that ever I had seen such 
richness of apparel. 

Till now we had been friends to- 
gether, playmates. The priest whom 
my Lord Gaston had brought to dwell 
in the castle taught us to read, and 
when we irked him overmuch sent us 
packing. Then would we spend the 
19 


DEEDS OF DARING 


time running over the great old castle, 
shooting with the bow and arrow, and 
teaching the shagged greyhounds to 
fetch and carry. 

But from to-day all was different. 
She was a great lady, and I her page 
J ehan, to hand her cup, to do her bid- 
ding within doors, and to ride at her 
litter’s side or by her saddle when she 
went abroad, with my sword loosened 
and hand steady and prompt at her 
need. 

On the fourth day my Lord Graston 
rode out with the Due de Berry to see 
him fare forth. My mistress stood 
upon the steps as they set out, with her 
sky-blue jewel in her hair and her 
cheeks like maybuds. The Due had 
bent and kissed her hand, and of a 
truth I heard him say, — 

“ Farewell, mistress. Thou wilt hear 

from me again, and that shortly.” 

20 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


She saith never a word, but looked 
into his face and smiled. 

Now once again it was Jehan here ” 
and “Jehan there,” and we fell back 
into our old ways. I digged and tilled 
for her the garden patch without the 
walls of the castle, for this was a year 
of richness, and my Lady’s gillyflowers 
and lavender, lilies and coriander, 
showed bright beside the dull pot- 
herbs, anise, mustard, and storax, and 
the beds of leeks, dittany, lettuces, and 
garden-cress. We had words over the 
poppies. 

“Jehan,” saith she, “didst ever see 
the poppies brighter than they be this 
spring?” 

“ Fair they be, mistress, and of a 
size too, so that the seeds will be 
choice, and none need suffer for 
lack of a sleeping draught if they 
be ill!” 


21 


DEEDS OF DABING 


“ Mean yon to save all the flowers 
for seeds ? 

Of a truth, yes, mistress, since they 
be so fine.’^ 

‘^But, Jehan, thou knowest that I 
love the poppies, and sure they were 
planted for me.’^ 

Now this was true, but the flowers 
were so exceeding fine, and gave prom- 
ise of such a crop of seeds, that I 
fairly loathed to give one up. So I 
tried to coax Mistress Eleonore with 
other buds. 

‘‘Jehan,'^ suddenly quoth she, “run 
you to the court and fetch me out a 
garden tool. I would help thee myself 
to-day.” 

I hurried away, as she bade me, and 
when I got back there she stood in the 
midst of the poppy-bed, with a wreath 
of them in her black hair, and both 

hands full! I stopped short, and she 
22 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


began to laugh at me, looking so like 
the fairies we hear of dancing in a 
ring, that though I felt the loss of the 
poppy-seeds sore, all I could find to say 
was, — 

“ Oh, mistress, the seeds! 

“But the fiowers are so beautiful, 
and the seeds but ill-favoured black 
things, as thou knowest well, Jehan, 
wherefore I chose the flowers.’^ 

There was naught to do but to hope 
that the buds that were left would 
bloom freely ; and shortly we went back 
to the castle, for the day was growing 
warm, the birds had ceased their morn- 
ing songs, and the wind was no longer 
sweet and cool. As we reached the 
gate, there came to us, faint and far 
away, the sound of a winded horn. 
We turned, and out over the marches 
we could see coming many knights, 
their armour glistening in the sun, and 

23 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


their lances shining like so many points 
of fire. 

‘‘ Who be these, think you, Jehan? ” 
said my mistress, as with her wreath of 
poppies she stood and watched them 
come. But I knew.no more than she, 
and soon the stranger knights rode by 
us into the court, each man as he passed 
doffing his cap to my mistress, who 
stood tall and smiling, and bowing in 
her turn. 

“ Jehan,’’ quoth she, “run as fast as 
ever thou canst and find the tirewoman 
and send her to me. Perchance my 
cousin will wish me to come to the 
great hall.’’ 

I was glad to be off, since I was eager 
to know who the great lord was that 
rode so bravely at the head of his 
vassals. In the court all was bustle, 
but I heard it said that he was a 
friend to the King, and that he bore 

24 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


the name of Seigneur Bureau de la 
Riviere. 

What was his mission to my Lord 
none could guess. But as one day fol- 
lowed another and yet he tarried, my 
Lady’s tirewoman could hold her 
tongue no longer, and out the secret 
came. Never could I bide that woman ! 
’Twas always touch and go between 
us. 

‘‘Knave,” quoth she, and “Jade,” 
say I, till the ill-favoured wench would 
to my Lady Eleonore in tears. 

Now the secret that she blabbed was 
this, — that the Seigneur de la Riviere 
had come to ask for the hand of my 
little mistress at the suit of the Due 
de Berry ! 

It seems that the King laughed when 
he heard that his uncle the Due, who 
had seen a round fifty years and had 
sons who were men grown, wished to 

25 


DEEDS OF DABING 


take to wife “ une iBlllette,” as he calleth 
her, of twelve years. But the Due 
held fast to his cause, and the King 
was but a lad of sixteen himself with 
a wife two years younger, and many of 
the court were of scarce greater age. 
So the Due had persevered in his 
wishes, and the Seigneur de la Riviere 
had come to treat with my master, the 
Comte de Foix, who did not wish to 
give up his young cousin to one so 
much her elder. So he put off the 
Seigneur, saying, — 

“ The child is too young. Let the 
marriage wait till she grows up.’^ 
These days I saw little of my mis- 
tress. The flowers and the dogs were 
all forgot, and she was housed with that 
tirewoman all the bright days. One 
morning there was an exceeding bustle 
and rushing hither and yon. Then 

was I bidden to put on my bravest suit 
26 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


and attend my mistress to the great 
hall. It took me far less time than it 
took my Lady to put on all her fine 
gear, and when we came into the hall, 
there sat my Lord, and beside him 
sat the stranger lord, while all around 
them were many score of knights and 
lances. 

My Lord cometh forward, and taking 
my mistress by the hand, he leadeth 
her to a seat in the great oak chair be- 
side him, whilst I stood but a step be- 
hind her. My Lord looked at her 
kindly, and then quoth he, — 

“ Knowest why I sent for thee, 
child! ^ 

My mistress drew up her head 
quite proud, and answered bravely, 
though her cheeks were like poppy 
buds, — 

‘‘In truth I do. Cousin. 

“ I think that thou art over-young to 
27 


DEEDS OF DABING 


make a marriage yet/^ began my Lord ; 
but my mistress saith quickly, before 
be could go further, — 

‘^Dear Cousin, our new Queen Isa- 
beau had but fourteen years when she 
wedded King Charles, and it is said 
that she hath meaner height than I/’ 

Her cousin smiled. 

“Thou knowest that the Due de 
Berry is far more in years than thy- 
self? ” 

“Yet methinks I could like him 
well,” saith the Lady Eleonore, ‘^and 
indeed this marriage suits me much.” 

She looked so full of spirit, and 
withal so fair, that the Seigneur de la 
Rivifere thought it well to take now a 
part himself. 

“The lady knows her mind,” saith 
he, “ and for a truth the Due loves her 
right well. King Charles, who is a 

youthful liege himself, will welcome 
28 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


her, and at Paris she will find all 
things that a young maid loves/’ 

I had forgot that in my lonely 
castle the young maid lacked much 
that other maids have. Still, child, 
thou knowest that I have loved thee 
well.” 

At this my mistress went to her 
cousin and knelt by his knee, holding 
his hand and kissing of it. 

Dearest Cousin,” she cried, “ there 
has been naught lacking in all thy 
kindness for me, and if it is thy wish 
that I stay with thee, send the Seigneur 
hence.” 

My Lord smiled sadly and shook his 
head, saying with a sigh, — 

^^The child has chosen for herself, 
my Lord.” 

Then my mistress withdrew, and I 
followed her. How my head spun! 
My mistress to wed a lord almost as 
29 


DEEDS OF DABING 


great as the King himself, to go to 
Paris to dwell, and I, Jehan, to go 
with her! 

Of a truth I scarce drew breath for 
the next ten days, since we were to 
go forth straightway, and there was 
hurly-burly to get us furnished forth. 
At the end of that time we set out 
towards Paris, my Lord Comte sending 
five hundred lances to safeguard my 
Lady, and the Due de Berry sending 
as many more, with litters, chariots, 
jewels, and fine robes to meet us on 
our way. I have not speech to tell 
how fine we fared on that journey. At 
every halt great silken tents were 
spread, my Lord Due had sent minstrels 
for to sing at my Lady’s pleasure, and 
there were litters hung with scarlet 
and gold to carry her when she was 
a-weary. There were women to wait 
on her, pages to run her bidding, and 

30 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


Jehan, chief of them all, always at 
hand, with a chain of bright gold about 
his neck, to show his new rank. 


Ill 

When we came nigh Paris, word 
came from my Lord Due that we were 
to halt at the Abbey of St. Denis, 
whither the King and Queen and the 
Dues de Berry and Burgundy, with 
my Lady^s father, were to come to 
welcome us. 

When my Lady heard that her father 
was to come also, she turneth to me, 
who knew that she had not seen him 
since she was a small babe of three. 
^‘Bymy faith, Jehan,^’ quoth she, “I 
fear my own father more than the 
lord I am to marry, since he is the 
greater stranger of the two. Why 
think you he cometh ? 

31 


DEEDS OF DABING 


Truth, I know not, my Lady,^^ say 
I ; and it was not till later that it was 
known that this strange father, hearing 
of his daughter’s beauty and that she 
was to wed his friend the Due de 
Berry, came forth from Paris with the 
King and Queen to look on her. 

We lay that night at the Abbey, 
and before we went to rest heard mass 
in the cathedral itself. Never had I 
dreamed that so noble a building had 
been made by men’s hands. And this 
was but the beginning. Gold and silver 
statues stood on the great altar; great 
coloured stones the names of which 
I knew not, sparkled on the cups and 
dishes of gold that were used for the 
holy offices, while the books that the 
holy fathers held in their hands, as well 
as their robes and mitres, gave forth 
sparkles like unto a rainbow. After 
the mass they took my Lady to show 

32 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


her the treasures, and I, following be- 
hind, saw with these eyes, that had 
never thought to see such things, the 
great golden sword of King Charle- 
magne, and so many other wonders of 
gold and jewels that my mind could 
hold them not. 

What made my blood to stir most 
amid all that world of rich and holy 
things, was a banner that hung high 
over the great altar. Torn it was, yet 
in its folds glowed the colour of flame ; 
and one of the good fathers turning to 
me, who stood with mouth agape, I 
doubt not, asked, — 

‘‘ Good lad, knowest thou what ban- 
ner hangest there I 

Nay, father,’’ answered I, “ and how 
should I, since I am but newly come 
from the far-away castle of Orthez, 
which, as thou knowest, lies in the 
lonely marches to the west.” 

3 33 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


Look, son,’^ then spoke he, at the 
greatest treasure of France. ’Tis the 
Oriflamme, that sacred banner which 
hath led her hosts so oft to victory.’^ 
And as I looked on it, and knew 
how many brave knights had found 
death under its folds, my heart was 
fuller than ever before. For what is 
more noble than to give one’s life for 
one’s country I Even a poor page may 
do that, though he may never hope to 
fall under a banner which may be 
borne only by princes and nobles. 
That night I slept on a monk’s pallet, 
spread on the floor of the passage 
without my Lady’s door, yet were my 
dreams always of war and clashings of 
arms, and there floated ever through 
my visions that wonderous banner of 
flame-colour. 

Next morn we were all astir with 
the dawn. ’T was my task to see that 

34 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


my Lady’s litter had been made fresh 
and seemly, that the pages were all 
point device in their looks, so that we 
should not bear our part ill before the 
nobles coming from Paris to greet us. 

About sunset they arrived. The 
King rode at the head of them all, with 
his two uncles on either hand, the Due 
de Berry on the right and the Due de 
Burgoyne on the left. Behind came 
the Queen and her ladies in an open 
car, and on either side rode the great 
lords, two by two, carrying their swords 
and shining in their armour of gold. 

The Due de Berry cometh forward 
and, taking my Lady by the hand, led 
her to the King, who kissed her on the 
brow, and then took her to the Queen. 
They were so handsome, these two, the 
Queen and my Lady, that all marvelled 
thereat. Queen Isabeau was of a fair- 
ness like unto milk and roses, while my 

35 


DEEDS OF DABING 


Lady, who stood a full hand taller, was 
of a dark brownness, which looked but 
the darker beside the golden-haired 
Queen. Shortly the Queen turneth to 
a tall and dark noble who stood behind 
her, and saith she with a smile, — 
“Well, Comte, hast thou naught to 
say I 

Then he came forward, and taking 
the hand of my Lady in his, looketh 
her long in the face. At last he looks 
less stern, and then he saith, 

“ If thou hadst looked like thy mother, 
child, thou and I hadst not met to-day. 
But I see well thou art my own child, 
and carry in thy brow and eyes the 
colour of a true daughter of Auvergne.” 

One needed only to look at them as 
they stood side by side, to see that they 
were of one race. He, like the King, 
kisseth my Lady on the brow, and then 
he tumeth to the Due de Berry, and 

36 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


placing in his hand the little one of 
my Lady, he saith, — 

“ One may not wonder longer at your 
choice, my Lord Duc/^ 

This night, like the last one, we lay 
in the Abbey, but there was feasting 
and gaiety, at least as much as seemed 
good in a holy house. Then next day 
we took our way to Paris, my Lady 
riding in the car with the Queen and 
her ladies, and I looked on her with 
marvel to see how one who had scarce 
seen aught but a squire’s lady and the 
wenches about the castle, and those 
who had taught us, could bear herself 
so bravely, as if all her life she had 
known aught but courts. 

Then after a brief space cometh the 
marriage at Paris, where King Charles 
himself giveth the bride away. For 
five days there were masques and feast- 

ings, balls and jousts, in which even 
37 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


the King takes a part. Many of these 
balls were at the Palace of St. Pol, 
where lived the King and Queen ; some 
there were at the Hotel de la Eeine 
Blanche, where dwelt the Queen of 
Navarre, and there were others yet at 
the Hotel de Nesle which the Due de 
Berry gave to my mistress, the Duch- 
ess Eleonore, for her wedding gift. 

Methought we had been merry at 
Orthez, but at Paris it was like a min- 
strehs tale! 

Who can wonder that my mistress 
was happy? She sang and danced, my 
Lord Due adored her, everybody loved 
her for her sweet and gentle ways, and 
there were none about the palace but 
that she knew and cared for. 

‘‘Jehan,’^ she saith to me one day, 
‘‘art thou happy here?’^ 

“Yea, mistress, since this great city 
is to be my home.’^ 

38 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


“Dost thou never think of those 
days when we trained the dogs at 
Orthez?’’ 

“ Faith an’ I do, mistress, though it 
is but seldom, and I love the brave do- 
ings here. Besides, where thou goest, 
there must Jehan follow.’^ 

The days slipped away and were 
none too long. I fed the pet squirrel 
with its collar of fair pearls which the 
King had given to my mistress, and 
the monkey too, and the flying birds, 
for my mistress loved ever to have an- 
tic creatures about her. At the hunts 
I ride close at hand, and as at Orthez, 
where my mistress the Duchess goeth, 
there goeth Jehan. Once when we 
chased the deer at Yal-la-Reine, the 
stag, a-weary and dazed, took refuge in 
a barn. Our King, the Well-beloved, 
crieth out, — 

“ Spare him, spare him,” for the 

39 


DEEDS OF DABING 


huntsmen ran into the barn to cut 
the poor beast’s throat. Then saith 
the King from his kind heart, — 

“Never shall this deer be hunted 
more. His life shall be his own from 
this day forth.” 

Saying which, he pulled from his 
saddle-cloth a splendid fleur-de-lys, and 
turned to some of his men for a chain 
with which to hang it on the creature’s 
neck. None had one ; so my Duchess 
took from her own neck a chain of 
gold, and it was hanged about the 
deer's neck to show that it was the 
King’s, and none might do it ill. 

Each day there was some new sport, 
and I had scant time to do aught but 
follow my mistress. As one mom she 
stood playing with the monkey, a beast 
that had no regard for my fingers, but 
was ever pleased to be petted by my 
Duchess, my Lady’s eyes roved to the 

40 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


beds of gay posies that bloomed without 
on the terrace. They put to shame the 
ones we tended in the old days by the 
castle wall, but my Duchess cried, — 

“ There is not a posy here as bright 
as the poppies that grew at Orthez, 
nor one so white as the gillyflowers. 
’Twas a pretty garden, and I loved it 
well. Yet I cannot say but what I 
love these too.’’ 

She stepped out on the terrace, and 
called back over her shoulder, — 

“ See that the cup of gold that the 
monkey broke be mended.” I loved 
not this task, since it seemed a shame 
to me that so grievous a beast should 
have his food from so fair a cup, while 
many of his betters had none. 

Soon after my mistress was wedded 
to my Lord Due, the great fair of St. 
Denis was set out in the meadow, “ Prd 
aux Clercs.” Thither went we with the 

41 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


King, Queen, and all the court. Such 
marvels as were spread out there for 
sale! Jewels and stuffs wrought with 
gold and gems ; pictures and holy books 
painted in colours and with gold ; carv- 
ings made from wood, and from the 
great white teeth of strange beasts 
which they saith live in the sea; cups 
of gold shaped like unto lilies and 
roses; swords and spears, battle-axes 
and shields, armour and horse-trap- 
pings, till one knew not which way to 
turn. 

If it was a fine show in daytime, my 
certes, what a sight it was at night! 
Every stall was ablaze with torches, 
and there were crowds of strange 
peoples of divers colours and from far- 
away lands, with soldiers and singers 
on every hand. 

My mistress had never seen before 
such a sight, no more than I ; and she 

42 


THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


chose many a rich and curious toy, and 
my Lord Due smiled, and gave her all 
her hearths desire. 

Yet think not that my Lady had 
ever gauds and merry doings in her 
mind. Being but young, she loved 
these well, as what young maid does 
not! But her heart was ever loyal to 
her friends, as presently I shall set 
forth. 


IV 

It befell, after we had dwelt three 
years in Paris, and my Duchess was 
just turned of fifteen, that there was 
tumult at the court. King Charles the 
Well-beloved, whose fits of madness 
caused so much havoc (owing to the 
mischief wrought by his uncles when 
he was too ill of mind and body to rule 
himself) was again out of his mind. 

43 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


The Seigneur de la Riviere, whom my 
Duchess had ever loved since he had 
arranged her marriage and fetched her 
to Paris to my Lord the Due de Berry, 
was, by the order of the Due de Bur- 
gundy, seized and held to die. His 
friends, lest they too should suffer 
for H, feared to help him. The King, 
as hath been said, was ill ; the Queen 
cared not what happened so long as 
she was not irked. But my Duchess 
clenched her little hand and saith, — 

“ He shall not die!” 

Just how to serve him she knew not; 
so she cometh to her Lord, the Due de 
Berry, and cast herself on her knees 
before him. 

“ Oh, dear my lord,” cried she, sob- 
bing, this man who hath done no 
wrong, and whom we know and love, 
must die, since none but I durst speak 
for him.” 


44 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


The Due, who loved her well, raised 
her and saith, — 

Take comfort, dear one.’’ 

But, my Lord, what comfort is there 
for me, when one who gave me happi- 
ness and thee, is in danger of his life, 
and for no wrongdoing, neither I” 

‘^Dear heart,” answered my Lord the 
Due, “ I too love him, since he brought 
thee to me, and what man can do, that 
will I for thy sake and his.” 

‘‘If he be not saved, then will I sor- 
row always,” wept my Duchess. 

My Lord Due went forth, and though 
the King was only at times come to his 
wits again, my Lord got from him a 
command that the Seigneur de la Eivi- 
fere should be sent overseas, and not 
slain. 

This did but half content my mis- 
tress. When the King grew well again, 
my Duchess plead with him so prettily, 

45 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


that as he loved right well to pleasure 
her, he allowed the Seigneur de la Rivi- 
ere to come home, and to him restored 
all his castles and his wealth. Greatly 
my mistress rejoiceth, and giveth 
thanks to both her Lord and the 
King. 

Now the Seigneur, when once more 
in honour and in wealth he came to his 
home, in token for his thanks for all 
she had wrought in his behalf, brought 
to my mistress a coffer filled with rich 
gifts. The coffer was in itself a mar- 
vel, since it was painted all over with 
little fiying boys, who bore in their 
hands fiowers and wreaths. All the 
rest of it was like unto gold, and it 
stood upon four feet cut in the shape 
of great paws. ^ 

When the coffer was opened, there 
seemeth no end to the splendid things 

my mistress brought forth, — tissues glis- 
4f6 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


tening like moonbeans, wrought stuffs 
of many colours, and chains and jewels. 
Chiefest amongst the rich treasures was 
a length of velvet from the great city 
called Genoa, the mate to which was 
not in all the court. It was blue in col- 
our, the which my mistress ever loveth, 
— just the shade of the sky of a sunny 
day at noon. Wrought all over it in 
threads of purest silver were flying 
doves. My faith, it seemeth as if their 
long wings fairly moved ! 

“Oh,'' cried my Duchess Eleonore, 
“ never was such a lovely robe seen be- 
fore, and it cometh just in time, too, 
since the ball that Queen Blanche 
giveth to the Queen's maid on her 
marriage will be shortly." 

My Duchess had the velvet fashioned 
into a robe so splendid that all mar- 
velled. It fell from her shoulders and 
flowed three metres’ length upon the 

47 


DEEDS OF DARING 


floor, and the doves of silver fluttered 
and shone with every step she taketh. 
Above her brow rose the tall hennin 
that Queen Isabeau so loved to wear 
and to have the ladies of her court 
wear also, and from this fell a veil of 
silver like unto the doves. 

The night of the ball was at hand, 
and none looking on my stately Duch- 
ess would deem that she had but flf- 
teen years. So heavy was the robe, 
and of such length, that as I walked 
behind I bore it for her. 

The palace shone bravely with 
torches and flambeaux set in the wall, 
and borne in the hands of many lack- 
eys all about the rooms. Our King, 
the Well-beloved, no longer ill, was 
full of pleasure at the masques which 
had been planned for this ball. He 
was scarce older than was I, since 
he was but nineteen years, and when 

48 





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THE KOBE OF THE DUCHESS 


he was not ill, ever loved to mingle in 
all the sports going forward. 

The dancing had come to an end. 
Quickly a space was cleared, and as I 
stood behind my Lady, a loud voice 
crieth out, — 

The wild men, the wild men ! Give 
the wild men room ! ” 

Of a truth they were frightful to see, 
— five chained together, led by a sixth 
who leaped along in front shouting, all 
of them being covered with long shaggy 
hair after the manner of some strange 
beasts. 

As the mummers passed, for they 
were but dressed to look like wild men, 
I tweaked betwixt finger and thumb a 
bit of the fur, and lo, it was but rav- 
elled tow. Now I knew right well 
why the word had been passed that 
none with lights should move about 
the room. With what wild shouts did 

4 49 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


the mummers leap here and there 
amongst the guests! Some were af- 
frighted and ran screaming away. The 
leader of them all runneth up to my 
mistress. 

Dost thou know me ? cried he. 

Eight firmly she held him by the hand. 

“Not yet/’ saith she, “but shall ere 
I let thee go.” 

Then my blood froze with the hor- 
ror of a scream I heard, then another 
and another. In an instant mummers, 
guests, room, and all were in a blaze. 
One of the company, to see the mum- 
mers better, had seized a torch and 
held it near them. The tow sprang 
into flame, and the five men who were 
tied together were instantly on fire and 
shrieking out. One only loosed him- 
self and ran and plunged into a tank 
for washing of the silver, and which 
happened to be full of water. 

50 


THE ROBE OF THE DUCHESS 


All through the tumult and cries 
there stood my Duchess mid the flying 
brands, which I fought as best I might 
with cap and hands. 

‘‘ Come away,’’ I cried, “ oh, mistress, 
come.” 

“ Nay, help me to save him, Jehan,” 
was what she whispered back. 

Her fair veil shrivelled with the 
heat, the flying slivers blistered her 
arms and neck. Cries of The King, 
the King, save the King,” grew loud 
and louder. Queen Isabeau fainted, 
yet my brave Duchess stood there till 
every flying spark had been stamped 
out, holding gathered about her the 
heavy velvet robe. When at last the 
fire was all subdued, she threw aside 
the blue robe that had been so fair, and 
there under its scorched folds, in his 
monstrous suit of tow, knelt the King, 
safe and unharmed. 

51 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


“ Hasten, Sire,” cried she, “the Queen 
waiteth you. Throw over you Jehan’s 
cloak lest some wanton spark fly near 
you.'' 

The King hurried away, and then 
think not but that I hastened to get 
my mistress home. And oh, my Lord's 
pride in my Lady ! 

And oh, the King's words when he 
came next morn to thank her, kneeling 
on one knee to kiss her hand ! 

The sky-blue robe, say you? What 
became of that? 

My mistress packed it away in the 
coffer that had brought it from Genoa, 
with her own hands, and from that 
time my Lord taketh for his pennon 
one of sky-blue ground with a silver 
dove set in its midst. 


52 



The Princess Wins 

1417 

I 

N MY OWN YOUTH- 
ful days, when turning 
over the leaves of story- 
books, I used to pause at 
those tales which began 
^^Once upon a time.’^ I always had a 
feeling that there was something of 
the fairy-tale about stories which be- 
gan in this fashion, and I should like 
so to begin this day. 

For truly the story I am about to 
tell you is but one incident in the life 
of a girl whose whole career was so full 
of ups and downs — alas, most often 
downs, — that it reads, even in the 

53 



DEEDS OF DARING 


solemn old Dutch documents, like the 
most fanciful tale of the imagination. 

When she died at thirty-seven, it 
seems as if our Jacqueline had dared 
everything and lost, — lost kingdom, 
home, and friends. Yet even in a life 
so full of disaster there were some 
bright spots, and in this story you will 
hear how once at least our Princess 
wins. 

She was born, our heroine, at her 
father’s palace at The Hague on St. 
James’ Day, 1401. The little girl was 
baptised Jacoba, in honour of the holy 
day of her birth. Jacobus being the 
Latin form of the name James. Grad- 
ually Jacoba was changed into the 
French form of Jacqueline, though in 
the strange old documents of the times 
her name is written as Jacob, or Jacque, 
or sometimes Madam Jake, and often 
as Jaque de Baviere. 

54 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


Jacqueline was born a princess, and 
when she was three years old, had the 
title given her of ^‘Daughter of Hol- 
land/^ as she was the sole heir and suc- 
cessor of her father, William the Sixth, 
Count of Holland, who on the death of 
his father had succeeded him as Count 
of Zealand and Hainault. 

In the Middle Ages, when might 
made right, possessions were held in 
many cases by him who had the strong- 
est arm, who could muster the greatest 
number of followers and had the most 
powerful connections. Marriage with 
princes who had great possessions of 
land or would inherit them was one 
of the ways by which sovereigns of 
small states strengthened their posi- 
tions, and this was one reason why 
mere babies were given in marriage 
by their parents. You see, the par- 
ents could not go to war against each 

55 


DEEDS OF DARING 


other when it was arranged that their 
children were to be married when they 
grew up! 

Little Jacqueline was no exception 
to the rule, and before she was quite 
five years old was formally betrothed 
to John, Duke of Tourraine, second 
son of Charles the Sixth of France, 
called the “Well-beloved.” 

The betrothal of Jacqueline to her 
bridegroom of nine years old took 
place in the old French town of Com- 
piegne, where both the French and 
Dutch courts were present. The fine 
old palace with its great number of 
rooms was elegantly furnished for the 
occasion, and the little Jacqueline had 
in her company Staes, Jan, and Hans, 
her drummer, piper, and trumpeter! 
Now these were very important per- 
sonages in those times, — they amused 
the company when there was nothing 

56 


THE PEINCESS WINS 


else to be done, they had their duties 
among the soldiers ; and in some of the 
old papers which are still preserved, 
and which show the expenses of this 
betrothal down to the last groot, it is 
duly set down that Staes, Jan, and 
Hans are each to have six French 
crowns to cover their travelling ex- 
penses. This would be equal to about 
nine dollars of our money. 

Neither of the fathers of the two 
children was present at the betrothal, 
for King Charles had one of his attacks 
of insanity, and Count William had 
been bitten by a dog, and was not able 
to be there, either. 

But the mothers had seen to it that 
nothing was lacking to make the cere- 
mony a handsome one. The Dutch 
expense account tells of new clothes 
for everybody connected with Jacque- 
line, even those who had to stay at 
57 


DEEDS or DAEING 


home having wedding garments and 
fine new hat-bands. 

When the betrothal ceremonies were 
over, the young bridegroom was handed 
over to Jacqueline’s mother, and the 
two children were taken home to Hol- 
land to be brought up together. 

From time to time they had presents 
sent to them from their subjects, which 
seem more like taxes than free gifts, 
and which were duly set down in the 
archives. For instance, there were fish 
and wine for John, and there were 
many ells of very fine cloth of silk ” 
for Madam Jake. They had a special 
dispensation sent them, too, so that 
they could eat meat on fast-days; and 
this dispensation was extended also to 
the napkin-bearer, the cook, and ten 
other servants who had to taste the 
dishes beforehand. 

You see, our Jacqueline lived in the 

58 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


days when people were sometimes poi- 
soned by their enemies, so that royalty 
had “tasters,’^ who ate of every dish 
before it was placed on the table for 
their Majesties to eat, and if the tasters 
did not suffer, why then it was deemed 
safe for their masters to eat. 

Notwithstanding all these things, the 
children passed many happy years 
studying French, English, and Latin, 
and in hunting, hawking, riding on 
horseback, playing tennis and ball, and, 
best of all, in skating on the long 
winding canals. Perhaps they skated 
the “Dutch Koll,’^ and Hans, Staes, 
and Jan went along too, to make things 
merry with the fife, trumpet, and drum. 
These were their pleasures. It was a 
more solemn matter when they had to 
learn how to rule their kingdoms and 
subjects, for the little bridegroom stood 
next but one to the great throne of 
59 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


France, and Jacqueline was heir to her 
father’s kingdom. 

They were married in 1415, when 
Jacqueline was fourteen years old. 

Two years later, her young husband, 
who, by the death of his elder brother, 
had become Dauphin and heir to the 
throne of France, died. The poor lad 
breathed his last at Compiegne, in the 
very palace where he had been be- 
trothed, whether by poison or from 
getting overheated at tennis, none can 
say, but at any rate while he was away 
from his wife and from his family. 

As if this was not enough, just two 
months later. Count William, the kind 
and loving father of Jacqueline, died 
also. The poor girl, without father or 
husband to protect her or her posses- 
sions, turned to her Fatherland to pro- 
nounce her sovereign of Zealand and 
Hainault. 


60 


THE PRINCESS WINS 


But there were others who had their 
eyes and minds fixed on the sturdy 
little kingdom, and, truth to tell, they 
were the last persons one would sus- 
pect of such ideas, since they were 
Jacqueline’s own kinsfolk. But so it 
was; and in order to strengthen her 
position, and to allow her subjects to 
know and love her and to pay her 
their vows of fealty, Jacqueline, as 
was the custom in those times, started 
on a “progress,” or tour through her 
various cities. 

These royal progresses were very 
splendid affairs, we can hardly imag- 
ine them now, and on this occasion 
Jacqueline’s mother bore her company, 
and there were many of her most pow- 
erful nobles as well. 

On June 12, 1417, when the caval- 
cade rode into Mons, the whole city 

was gay to welcome the young girl 
61 


DEEDS OF DARING 


who came thither to take her vows of 
sovereignty. How prettily the city, 
old even then, must have looked I From 
the windows fluttered banners of bright- 
coloured cloth, many of them worked 
with patterns of gold and silver! So 
large were some of these banners that 
they stretched from window to window 
across the street. Many were the arches 
wreathed with flowers and branches 
under which Jacqueline passed, and 
streamers waved everywhere. 

Leaning from the casements were 
ladies richly dressed and holding chains 
of flowers; and children were here, 
there, and everywhere, come to see 
their little Princess, who was scarce 
more than a child herself. 

Many great lords there were as well, 
having come forth from their castles 
on the wooded hills of Hainault, fol- 
lowed by their retainers and serfs, the 
62 


THE PEINCESS WINS 


former clad in suits of bright armour 
and riding on horseback, while the lat- 
ter ran on foot beside the men-at-arms, 
and bore on their collars the names of 
their masters, and their doublets were 
of leather, and many times their feet 
were bare. 

Jacqueline on a milk-white palfrey, 
with her mother at her left hand, rode 
at the head of them all. There are a 
few quaint old pictures which show 
her to have been slender and tall, 
brown-haired, and without the high 
cheek bones which are so usual in her 
countrywomen. On this occasion her 
appearance was royal indeed. She 
wore a gown of cloth of gold, which 
glittered in the warm June sunshine. 
Her coif, or headdress, was bound by 
many a chain of gold and jewels, 
suitable to her rank as Dauphine of 

France and Daughter of Holland. 

6s 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


She had not advanced far within 
the city before a deputation of young 
girls, all dressed in white, stood forth 
to meet her. 

“ Hail, Daughter of Holland, welcome 
to Mons,^’ the leader of them said, and 
stepping forward, hung her chaplet of 
flowers on Jacqueline’s arm. One by 
one each young girl followed in turn, 
and Jacqueline, turning with smiling 
face to her mother, said, — 

“Our good city of Mons shows its 
loyalty in pleasing fashion, Madame. 
If all our other cities bear themselves 
like this, we care not for our uncle of 
Burgundy, who seeks to take our in- 
heritance from us, nor for the Egmonts 
nor Arkels, nor any who are enemies 
of our house.” 

“ In truth all seemeth fair, my 
daughter. Our good burghers always 
respond to our need, though our nobles 

64 


THE PRINCESS WINS 


sometimes think too highly of their 
power.’ ^ 

“ Our loyal burghers ! In truth they 
are our best friends. Yet remember 
how many nobles ride with us this 
day, and have sworn to urge our cause 
as though it were their own.” 

They rode slowly forward, the little 
Princess pleased and happy at the hom- 
age of her subjects, bowing and smil- 
ing. At last the church of St. Wal- 
trude was reached. Here Jacqueline 
dismounted, and entering the dim old 
building, walked slowly up the central 
aisle till she reached the high altar. 
Here she knelt, kissed the holy relics, 
and swore to preserve all usages and 
privileges of the city, to protect the 
church, to uphold the right, to dispel 
the wrong.” 

Then, seated on a lofty throne that 
had been set up beside the altar, she 

6 65 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


received the homage of her subjects, 
and their vows of loyalty to her and to 
her cause. 

After the solemn ceremonies at the 
church were over, the royal party had 
a banquet given in their honour by the 
burghers of the city, who had arranged 
many festivities to give them pleasure. 

Can you not see our Princess with 
rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes stand- 
ing at the table’s head ? Her soft 
brown hair is tightly bound to her 
head and covered with a cap wrought 
of threads of gold strung with pearls. 
Embroidery of threads of gold and col- 
oured silks in which the Dutch excelled, 
enrich her gown, which is of the heav- 
iest silk that even Flanders can pro- 
duce. Long chains of pearls, which 
were sold by weight, hang about her 
neck, and fur of minever binds and 

edges the cuts and slashes in her 
66 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


great sleeves and on the body of her 
gown. 

Besides the banquet, there was 
planned a tournament, a favourite oc- 
casion for showing knightly deeds, and 
it was to be held on a grassy mead just 
without the walls of the city, on the 
day following the paying of homage, 
and entry into the city. 

Thither early in the morning trooped 
the inhabitants of the town. Among 
the first to go were groups of appren- 
tices, dressed in the uniforms of their 
guilds or trade societies. These trudged 
on foot, glad enough of a holiday. 
Mingling among them were serfs or 
bondsmen, easily to be told by their 
metal collars. Some carried burdens 
for their masters who should arrive 
later in the day, while some merely 
swung a cudgel, and hurried on as if 

conscious of their lowly position. 

67 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


As the day wore on, the road was 
dusty with the men-at-arms, knights, 
nobles, and their attendants, with sub- 
stantial burghers with their appren- 
tices, and with groups of maidens from 
the town, eager to see the gay com- 
pany, and looking pretty enough them- 
selves in their close-fitting white caps 
and scarlet kirtles. 

Only occasionally, walking sedately 
by her father’s side, shrouded in a 
long cloak to keep her clothes fresh 
from the dust, came some tradesman’s 
daughter, her neck encircled with 
strings of coral beads, and her gold 
earrings, handed down through many 
generations, a trifie longer than those 
of the serving maidens, and the inevi- 
table cap edged with lace, or of finest 
plaited muslin, while theirs, though 
snowy white, were of coarse material. 

Now and again amid the crowd 
68 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


swung covered litters, bearing either the 
wife of some dignitary, or some high 
official who preferred this manner of 
travelling to going on horse or mule 
back. 

At an hour past noon, out from the 
palace yard rode a troop of men on 
horseback, bright in a livery of orange 
and black. Their business it was to 
clear the road of any such as cumbered 
/it, so that the passage to the field should 
be kept free, since the Princess Jacque- 
line would ride thither on her palfrey, 
to show herself to her subjects, who 
had prepared the tournament in her 
behalfi 

As the cavalcade issued from the 
palace yard, there came first twoscore 
knights riding two abreast, each in a 
full suit of armour which sparkled like 
silver in the sun, each carrying his 
shield and a pennon of bright silk. 

69 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


Then came the members of the council 
of Mons, in rich robes of velvet, furred 
and wrought, and showing on their 
breasts the heavy gold chains of their 
office. They were men who showed on 
their faces intelligence and a sense of 
the importance of their office, slow to 
smile and grave, but true as steel to 
what they deemed the right, and loyal 
subjects when once won to their 
sovereign. 

Next came Jacqueline with her 
mother beside her, both riding on 
splendid horses, whose caparison was 
as rich as cloth and gold could make it. 
Right royally shone our Princess, robed 
in a gown of damask which showed in 
the pattern tulips of many shades, the 
flower of all others most dear to the 
Dutch heart, the which were made 
richer yet by stitchery of brilliant silks. 
Around the neck and long sleeves, 

70 


THE PRINCESS WINS 


which reached almost to her feet, were 
bands of ermine fur, and beneath the 
flowing cap, made truly in the very 
shape of those worn by the peasant 
maidens, her hair was bound with 
many a string of pearl. 

Behind her came those who were to 
take part in the tournament ; and never 
had Mons, staid old city, seen a sight 
of such splendour. Forty knights came 
ahead at a stately pace, each mounted 
on a noble steed in trappings of velvet, 
for the steeds of the fallen knights be- 
came the prizes of the victors, and it 
was a matter of pride to have both 
horse and harness worthy to be a prize. 
After the knights rode forty ladies, 
chosen for their beauty, all richly 
dressed in colours of the gayest hues, 
mounted on palfreys, each one riding 
alone, and leading by a silver chain a 

knight completely armed for tilting, 
71 


DEEDS OF DARING 


astride a splendid horse, which also 
wore armour, and a plume of feathers. 

Minstrels and trumpeters followed 
along, blowing on their instruments; 
and then came the people, shouting 
and cheering, and hurrying along so 
as not to miss any of the sport at the 
field. 

It was a lovely sight that met their 
eyes when the mead was reached. The 
grassy sward was dotted with gay and 
constantly changing groups, bright awn- 
ings and banners were stretched to 
keep off the sun from spectators and 
combatants, and almost encircling the 
tilting ground were fine trees, beneath 
whose shade many horses were teth- 
ered, while their attendants lounged on 
the grass. So busy were all with the 
scene before them, that none noted the 
cloud rising dark above the horizon, 
and he who called attention to it would 

72 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


have been but deemed a churl for his 
pains. 

In the little enclosure set apart for 
the Princess and her immediate attend- 
ants, the hangings were of equal splen- 
dour with the rest of the arrangements. 
It was hung with gay strips of cloth, 
and with chains of flowers, and it was 
placed midway between the lists, so 
that the tilting could be seen to the 
best advantage. 

All was ready ; the heralds rode forth, 
each with his silver trumpet at his lips 
prepared to announce the opening of 
the fray, when a long rolling peal of 
thunder startled alike the spectators in 
the stands as well as those who stood 
upon the greensward pressing eagerly 
forward to see the flrst shock of the 
encounter. 

The flrst peal was followed by an- 
other and another. The wind whirled 

73 


DEEDS OF DABING 


across the wide meadow and tore into 
shreds the awnings which had been 
stretched against the sun. Rain de- 
scended in floods, and before Jacque- 
line and her party could take shelter 
in the rude stalls that had been built 
below the galleries, and in which the 
horses were stabled, they were pelted 
with hailstones so large, and which 
came with such force, that one of 
them left on Jacqueline^s cheek a cruel 
bruise. 

Even centuries later, and in our own 
country, women and girls were burned 
as witches, and when our Daughter 
of Holland lived, many things which 
would seem quite natural to us were 
called omens,’' and were supposed to 
foretell either good or ill. 

This hail-storm was judged a bad 
omen for poor Jacqueline. So strong 
a hold did it take on the superstitious 

74 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


people that while many important 
transactions and details of history are 
lost, a full account of this storm has 
been left in various Dutch documents, 
with fabulous tales as to the size of the 
hailstones, and that they killed cattle 
and ruined crops. Thus sadly ended 
for Princess Jacqueline the day that 
had opened so fair. Eight bravely did 
she bear the hurried ride back into the 
city. With her mother she withdrew 
into their apartments as soon as they 
reached Mons, and was seen no more 
that night. 

Indeed so wrought upon was Jacque- 
line by the great storm and the mis- 
fortune attending it, that, as soon as 
they were alone, she exclaimed to her 
mother, — 

^‘Let us away as soon as our train 
can be made ready. 

“ Nay, dear child, that would but in- 

75 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


cense our good people of Mons, who 
did their best to pleasure and to honour 
you.’' 

‘‘But, mother, that is all past, and 
see the grievous bruise upon my cheek. 
It ill becomes the face of a princess.” 

“ That it does, my dearest, but it is 
but just to remember that, cruel though 
it be, unguents and laving it with soft 
water will heal it, and by the mor- 
row thy cheek will show no stain. 
Neither must thou forget that for this 
bruise none of thy subjects should be 
blamed.” 

To this the little Princess made no 
could not her mother induce 
her to remain longer in the city; and 
shortly after sunrise the next morning, 
the cavalcade took their way from the 
city of Mons, Jacqueline travelling in 
a litter, since she chose not to show 

herself again in that ill-omened place. 

76 


THE PRINCESS WINS 


II 

After the mishap at Mens, the young 
Princess journeyed to other of her 
loyal towns, — to Delft, to Leyden, to 
Amsterdam and Haarlem. Though all 
these cities paid homage to Jacqueline 
as their sovereign, and supported her 
claims to Zealand and Hainault, there 
was a strong party growing up against 
her, chiefly on account of her youth, 
and because she was a girl. 

The headquarters of this party was 
at Dordrecht, the one city which re- 
fused to pay homage to Jacqueline. 
Here in Dordrecht the leaders of the 
opposing party were joined by one of 
the uncles of Jacqueline, known as 
‘‘John the Pitiless,’’ who was eager to 
rob his niece of her inheritance. He 

proposed to be appointed governor, and 
77 


DEEDS OF DABING 


in this way gradually get into his own 
hands the whole power. 

Now indeed Jacqueline showed that 
she was strong at heart, for though but 
sixteen, she immediately took steps in 
person to suppress all such designs on 
the part of her uncle, and levied troops, 
gathered supplies, and started towards 
rebellious Dordrecht. 

Right bravely she looked, our little 
Princess, as she rode at the head of 
her troops, and ever from time to time 
she turned to her mother with a bright 
smile, and some such word as — 

‘‘ Courage, dear Madame, ever saw 
you troops with braver front than 
ours ? 

Or, after a pause, — 

“ Think you that mine uncle of Bur- 
gundy will expect to see us in person, 
come to defend our rights ? 

“Thou art my brave girl. Wouldst 

78 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


that thy father wert here to guard and 
guide thee!’^ 

But her mother looked anxious, and 
as she rode in her litter near her 
daughter, it was she who from time to 
time called to her side those brave 
nobles who had espoused her daughter’s 
cause, and to whose advice she looked 
to bring the assault to a successful 
conclusion. 

After the first day’s march Jacque- 
line’s bright confidence was shaken. 
Wearied with being all day in the sad- 
dle and bearing the weight of her suit 
of armour, even though the shirt was of 
the finest Milan steel and fiexible and 
light, Jacqueline dismissed all her at- 
tendants, and begged her mother to 
bide with her for a space before going 
to rest. 

When all were gone and they were 

alone together and the curtains to the 
79 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


tent secured, poor Jacqueline, but a 
tired girl after all, cast herself down 
beside her mother, and hid her face in 
her lap. 

“ Oh, mother,’’ cried she, ‘‘methinks 
I ’d give all Dordrecht to be once more 
in our own palace in The Hague, safe 
sheltered in mine own room, and rid of 
this armour which chafes me so ! ” 

“Nay, daughter, speak not so loud, 
bend thy lips to mine ear, for truly 
it would shame you much should the 
men-at-arms without hear thy plaints.” 

“ But, mother — ” 

“Lower, dear child, speak lower. 
What ! weeping? Countess of Hainault 
and Daughter of Holland shedding 
tears? ” 

“ Thy daughter was I, mother, be- 
fore I was Daughter of Holland. So 
fearsome am I of those cruel men we 

go to meet, with their spears and 
80 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


arrows. Methinks that already I feel 
them in my flesh”; and at the very 
thought there were fresh showers of 
tears. 

“ Can this be my brave Princess? Is 
this the maid of whom her father said, 
‘Brave as a lad, with more wisdom 
than her years, and better fltted to rule 
than many an elder one ’ ? Sure, child, 
the hailstones have in truth bewitched 
thee! ” 

“ Ah, mother, I will be brave to-mor- 
row, since needs I must. But say thou 
wilt not leave me this night? Stay 
with me; the darkness affrights me, 
mother.” 

“ Truly I had no thought not to stay 
with thee, dear child. See, give me 
thy hand, and I will sit beside thy 
couch till thou art fast asleep.” 

Jacqueline threw herself on the couch 

which had been hastily spread in her 
6 81 


DEEDS OF DARING 


tent, and made soft with the skins of 
fox and of bear, and drew over her 
buckskin doublet a cloak of frieze. 

“ Kiss me, mother, as though I were 
once more thy little daughter, and leave 
me not’’; and holding her mother’s 
hand as she had done in babyhood, our 
poor little Daughter of Holland, from 
very weariness, fell fast asleep. 

Before dawn the next day all the 
camp was astir. The sound of the 
armourers at work, the stamping and 
neighing of horses, the shouts of the 
soldiers as they hurried about their 
labour, made a din quite at variance 
with the quiet of the night, when the 
only sounds which disturbed the soli- 
tude were the cries of the sentries that 
all was well, and the occasional whinny 
of some restive horse. 

Yet still Jacqueline slept on, and by 

her side her mother watched, hoping 
82 


THE PEINCESS WINS 


that the sounds from without would 
penetrate the deep sleep of the weary 
girl. At last, at the door of the tent 
itself, sounded the notes of the bugle, 
and Jacqueline started up, her eyes 
clear and flashing, as she turned to the 
patient watcher at her side. 

“ Once more Countess of Hainault, 
dearest lady,^^ she cried, “Jacqueline 
the little girl has fled back to her child- 
hood.^’ 

Her mother drew a long breath and 
smiled in return. 

“Let us praise St. James for that,” 
she answered, and pushed aside the 
hanging folds that covered the opening 
to the tent, so that the fresh morning 
air would sweep within. 

Hail, Lady, a bright awakening and 
a joyous day”; and forward pressed 
two pages, special attendants to Jacque- 
line herself, and like her dressed in 

83 


DEEDS OF DARING 


suits of bright armour. But while theirs 
glittered as bravely as hers, on her hel- 
met, on her shield, and on any smallest 
spot which offered a space for the tool 
of the goldsmith, there were wrought 
the various heraldic devices which be- 
longed to the Countess by right of her 
great and royal descent. 

The younger of the two pages — so 
young in fact that his cheek was scarce 
less rosy and fair than that of his 
young mistress — bore her sword and 
spear, which gleamed in the cold beams 
of the wintry sun. The elder of the 
two carried her shield and pennon, the 
last of fine blue silk, showing the arms 
of Bavaria quartered with those of 
Hainault-Holland, and watching over 
these was deftly embroidered the image 
of the Virgin and Child. 

Jacqueline came to the door of her 
tent, and as her eyes watched the busy 

84 


THE PKINCESS WINS 


scene, she looked both rested and well 
pleased. 

“A fair omen for the Daughter of 
Holland this day,^’ she said, and 
pointed towards where the lad stood 
with her pennon. The bright clouds 
in the sky had but touched the faces 
of the Holy Virgin and the Child, and 
reflected in the silver threads with 
which they were wrought, caused them 
to glow with almost the colours of true 
flesh and blood. 

“The Countess speaks well,” said 
Eberhard, Lord of Hoogtwoude, than 
whom Jacqueline had no more faithful 
follower, and who had just come up 
from the camp to see how the young 
Countess had rested. 

“ A fair sleep and a long one, thanks 
to my lady mother,” said Jacqueline, 
turning to her with a loving glance, 
“ who was ever wont to take upon 

85 


DEEDS OF DARING 


her own shoulders the burden of my 
humours.^ ^ 

Full well did Jacqueline repay the 
kindness of her mother, by her love 
for that lady which her dignity never 
caused her for a moment to conceal. 
Going once more within the tent, she 
bathed in water fresh and cold, and 
though the air was a thought too keen, 
she had the armourer summoned to 
rivet on her greaves, so that the legs 
below the knee should be well pro- 
tected, lest some who were on foot 
among the enemy might get near and 
do her harm. 

Bring my helmet,’^ next she or- 
dered, “ and sling it to my saddle bow, 
for this cap of velvet shall serve me to 
wear till we near the troops which my 
false uncle hath gathered.^’ 

Kissing her mother, she whispered 
in her ear, — 


86 



(( 


ON, 


FOR THE LOVE OF THE DAUGHTER OF HOLLAND, AND 
DEATH TO THOSE THAT DENY HEr/^ Page 87. 




THE PBINCESS WINS 


Fear not, lady, I be a lad this day ’’ ; 
and then placing her spurred foot on 
the knee of her page, she mounted 
easily into her saddle. Once on the 
back of her war-horse, her courage rose 
higher still, and seizing her pennon in 
her hand, she drove her horse onward, 
shouting in her sweet young voice, — 
On, for the love of the Daughter of 
Holland, and death to those that deny 
her!’’ 

Across the low bare fields and 
through the scrubby woods rode the 
small army, which numbered barely a 
couple of thousand men. When the 
sun stood high in the heavens and 
showed the hour of noon, though the 
wind was keen and little comfort was 
to be had, they rested, for the sake of 
the horses as well as the men. 

Whilst they stopped thus, and with 

fires and food sought to take such ease 
87 


DEEDS OF DARING 


as they could command, a band of 
picked men, less than a score, rode for- 
ward to gain what news they might 
of the enemy. Soon they could be 
seen spurring quickly back, and they 
brought the welcome news that “ John 
the Pitiless ” was encamped just with- 
out the town of Grocum, that the men 
were scattered about as if preparing to 
halt for the remainder of the day, and 
that they had learned from some faith- 
ful adherents of the Princess Jacque- 
line^s, that her uncle had been able to 
muster scarce five hundred men more 
than were in her own little army. 

At this news all sprung to their sad- 
dles, since the brief winter^s day was 
all too short for that which they had 
to do, and Jacqueline with helmet on 
head and sword in hand, rode at their 
head. 

Scarce an hour’s brisk riding brought 
88 


THE PRINCESS WINS 


them in sight of the army gathered 
from among those who opposed the 
Princess. There was much confusion 
evident among them, and it seemed as 
if they had but just learned of the ap- 
proach of the Daughter of Holland, and 
were preparing to hold their own as 
best they might. 

Straight as an arrow, forward to 
where his pennon showed the presence 
of her uncle, rode Jacqueline. 

No need to shout encouragement to 
the brave men at her back, yet ever 
and again she would turn and call, 
^‘Por love of Holland,^’ or ‘‘For the 
Virgin and St. James,’’ and ever and 
anon would come back the answering 
cry, “For love of Holland,” “For St. 
James.” 

When almost within the flight of an 
arrow from the enemy, once again did 
Jacqueline turn, and this time her cry 
89 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


was borne back on the wind with the 
clearness of a trumpet, — 

“For love of the Daughter of Hol- 
land.” 

At this the hoarse shout that rose 
among her followers could have been 
heard a league away. Still keeping 
her horse’s head straight for that pen- 
non she had marked so well, she sent 
her pages to the right and left, bidding 
the soldiers spread in a wide circle, and 
never draw rein till they had circled 
the enemy. 

On they came like a whirlwind ; the 
enemy, seeming not to know what 
manner of tactics they were like to 
meet, formed a compact body. 

The rushing mass of men and horses, 
with Jacqueline at their head, swept 
madly on, nor paused nor swerved till 
they had flung themselves against the 
enemy. In a moment all was frightful 

90 


THE PEINCESS WINS 


confusion, men unhorsed and being 
trampled underfoot by the riderless 
steeds, and in many cases the horses 
suffering themselves from wounds that 
had fallen on them instead of their 
masters. 

Twice, above all the tumult and din 
of metal when spear met shield or hel- 
met, could be heard the cry, “ For the 
Daughter of Holland,” and each time 
it brought the answering shout. At 
these moments even the enemy seemed 
to waver, as if they had not dreamed 
that their hereditary Princess could be 
there in the thick of battle in her own 
person. 

Surrounded by the noblest of her 
kin and those of the highest rank 
among her party, Jacqueline never 
gave a thought to her own safety. 

From right to left she flew, encour- 
aging here, supporting there, bringing 
91 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


up laggards to harass a weak spot 
among the enemy’s forces, by the 
sheer might of her presence striking 
awe among the foe. 

At last one more stolid or more 
cruel than the rest rode straight at 
her, his lance thrust at her breast. 
The good mail shirt she wore and her 
trusty shield turned aside the blow, but 
so sharp was the shock that she fell 
from her horse. Now indeed came 
in that training in horsemanship on 
which her father had ever insisted, 
and in which she had been practised 
since her earliest years. Still clinging 
to the bridle, she managed to keep from 
falling, and with the aid of her faithful 
pages who kept ever at her saddle, she 
managed to regain her seat. 

“ Now, by all I hold dear,” cried she, 
“ no mercy shall be shown the enemies 
of Holland and my house.” 

92 


THE PRINCESS WINS 


From that moment with voice and 
example she inspired her weary men, 
till with the fall of dusk on that Decem- 
ber day they routed those that were still 
left alive, and sent them flying over the 
waste country back to Dordrecht. 

Many of the enemies of Jacqueline 
and her house fell during this battle, 
the most noted, and the most vindictive 
as well, being that William of Arkell 
to whom her father desired to wed her 
in the interests of peace, but who stub- 
bornly refused our little Princess and 
always remained one of her most bitter 
foes. 

Her uncle, “John the Pitiless,’’ es- 
caped and returned to Dordrecht with 
the remnant of his forces. Nor was 
this the only effort he made to capture 
her lands, but for years he pursued her 
relentlessly, and did not hesitate at any 
means to gain his end. 

93 


DEEDS OF DARING 


Involved in endless wars and in- 
trigues both with enemies within her 
own land as well as those abroad, the 
battle at Grrocum was the only time 
when Jacqueline, Daughter of Holland, 
led her troops in person, and no 
amount of persuasion could induce her 
to assume command again. 

The night of the victory at Grocum, 
the little army encamped within the 
city which they had wrested from the 
Burgundian party, and the celebration 
of this happy event was accompanied 
with feasting and much joy. A thou- 
sand healths were drunk to Jacqueline, 
Countess and Commander, and there 
were toasts to future victories, and 
the rosiest anticipations of success, 
the victors imagining that because of 
one triumph their enemies would be 
vanquished. 

When the Daughter of Holland laid 

94 


THE PEINCESS WINS 


herself down to sleep that night, her 
mother, with a happy face, bent to kiss 
her good night. 

“ Mother, dear lady,” whispered this 
victorious Countess of sixteen, “ I pray 
you tell no one that last night I wept 
from fear ! ’ ’ 

Her mother smiled as she kissed her, 
and answered in her gentle voice, — 
Thou hast my promise.’’ 


95 



Defence of Castle 
DANGEROUS 

1692 


I 

HE SUN SHONE 
bright and warm on 
the little frontier set- 
tlement of Vercheres 
one crisp October morn- 
ing in the year 1692. 

Though the settlement was small, 
it was pleasantly placed on the south 
shore of the St. Lawrence River, not 
more than twenty miles from Montreal, 
which was considered but a short dis- 
tance from a place of safety in those 
days when homes were being hewn 
out of the wilderness. 

96 



DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS 


The Seignior or Governor of the 
place was an old soldier, formerly a 
captain in the renowned regiment of 
Carignan, which was sent to New 
France to give aid and protection to 
the settlers, and to assist them in re- 
pelling the Iroquois. The officers of 
this great regiment were rewarded for 
their services by large grants of land 
along the rivers, which were for many 
years the great highways. The officers 
in turn rented out the land to the 
soldiers under them, and none save the 
Colonel himself was allowed to return 
to France, so anxious was that country to 
increase the population of its colonies. 

When our story opens, Seignior Ver- 
cheres was on military duty at Quebec, 
his wife had gone on a visit to Mon- 
treal, and they had left the little 
family at home in charge of Madelon, 
the only daughter, a girl about four- 
7 97 


DEEDS OF D AEING 


teen years old. There were two young 
brothers, — Louis, a lad of twelve, and 
Alexander, who was about a year 
younger. There were, besides, the set- 
tlers who looked on Madelon as the 
representative of her father. 

We can hardly picture to ourselves 
what a very rude place the settlement 
was, and as it lay near the trail of 
the Iroquois, it had become known 
throughout New France as “Castle 
Dangerous.’^ 

At this time the Iroquois, containing 
the strong and invincible Five Nations, 
had two motives which swayed their 
savage breasts most powerfully; these 
were love of fighting and love of gain. 
They were dependent on the Dutch 
and English at Albany for guns, 
powder, lead, brandy, and many other 
things which the white man had 
brought with him from the Old World, 

98 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS 


and which these children of the woods 
had come to regard only too quickly 
as necessary to their comfort. 

True, beaver skins could buy these 
things which they coveted, but with 
the Iroquois the supply was limited. 
The great forests stretching to the 
west and northwest, and those of the 
upper lakes, were occupied by tribes 
who were bound to French interests, 
and it was the French traders who con- 
trolled their immense annual product 
of furs. 

Every summer there was a great 
Fair at Montreal, where the trading 
for a whole year took place, and the re- 
mote tribes brought in their accumu- 
lated beaver skins. The Iroquois saw 
and envied these furs and the strong 
waters which they enabled their pos- 
sessors to buy, so they became more 
than ever bent on mastering all this 
99 


DEEDS OF DARING 


traffic by first conquering the tribes. 
The Dutch and English urged them 
on, for the Hurons, Ottawas, and other 
tribes were the “children’’ of the 
French, working in their interests and 
protected by them, while French and 
Indians alike were enemies of the 
Iroquois. 

Thus it was no accidental attack 
that the French had to fear at “ Castle 
Dangerous,” but a determined effort 
by a race that could put nearly three 
thousand warriors in the field, and that 
constantly increased this force by 
adopting captives into the tribes. 

The settlement at Castle Dangerous 
consisted of the blockhouse, a strong 
building made of timbers ; of the house 
of the Seignior ; some rude shacks, and 
the fort itself, which was connected 
with the blockhouse by a covered 

way. All the settlers lived in these 
100 . 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEEOUS 


buildings for safety, since their pitiless 
enemy the Iroquois had always to be 
guarded against. There were as well 
bands of wandering Indians that were 
constantly passing up and down the trail 
that lay along the St. Lawrence River. 

Rude and dangerous as the place 
seemed, Madelon loved it, since it was 
home to her. She was brave, and had 
been trained by her father in the use of 
firearms, to be cool in the face of danger 
and quick to meet emergencies. 

The morning of the twenty-second 
of October broke fair, the sun rose 
amid banks of purple and gold clouds, 
and as there was still work to be done 
in the fields, the men of the settlement 
started off directly after the morning 
meal, leaving the women and children, 
two soldiers, one old man of eighty, 
and Madelon in charge of the fort. 

For a long time Vercheres had been 
101 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


unmolested. The settlers had come to 
feel that perhaps there was not much 
further danger to be feared from the 
foe, and with this feeling of fancied 
security they had grown less vigilant. 
Madelon, attracted by the beauty of the 
day, started to go down to the landing- 
place, which hung over the river and 
made an admirable spot from which to 
fish, the river being noted for the ex- 
cellence and number of fine fish to 
be found there. 

“ Come, Laviolette,’^ she called to a 
French half-breed who was hired to 
work about the fort, “ bring some lines 
and perhaps we can catch fish enough 
to serve for a meal.’^ 

They were busily engaged in this 
peaceful sport, when suddenly the sound 
of firing was heard in the neighbour- 
hood of the place where the settlers 
were at work in the fields. 

102 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEKOUS 


“Run, Mademoiselle, run! The Iro- 
quois are coming,’^ screamed Lavio- 
lette, and taking her by the hand, they 
fled towards the fort. 

“ Can we reach it, dost thou think? 

“ Courage, Mademoiselle ! we are al- 
most there,’’ replied Laviolette; and so 
the Iroquois thought also, since they 
gave up the chase of the flying girl, 
and contented themselves with firing at 
her and her companion. As the bul- 
lets whistled by, she prayed aloud, — 
“Holy Marie, save us! ” and as the 
words inspired her with fresh courage, 
she shouted as she neared the fort, — 
“Help, help, to arms!” Her wild 
call was not heard, and at the very 
gate itself were two sobbing women 
who from the battlement of the fort 
had seen their husbands murdered in 
the field, and stood wringing their 
hands in misery. 


103 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


Oh, come within, come in, think of 
the children^^; and as she spoke, Mad- 
elon pushed the two women in before 
her, and with the aid of Laviolette 
shut the heavy gate. 

Where are the soldiers I ” was her 
next question. 

“ Hidden in the blockhouse, sister ” ; 
and Louis, the elder of the two boys, 
came to meet his sister with a gun in 
his hand. They ran together to the 
blockhouse, and there, sure enough, 
were the two men, crazed with fear, 
and one of them holding in his hand 
a lighted fuse. 

“ What do you with that fuse ? 

“Light the powder and blow us all 
up,” cried the soldier, while his com- 
panion, huddling in the corner, only 
moaned. 

“ Miserable coward, go from this 
place at once!’’ and Madelon’s voice 

104 * 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS 


rang with such determination and com- 
mand that the man obeyed. 

“ See, since none of you dare, I my- 
self will defend this fort, for my father 
would have shame if his daughter 
could not keep it, when there are arms 
and powder and those that can use 
them.” 

“Sister,” said Alexander, “give me 
a gun, for I too can load and fire one.” 

“Truly thou shalt have one, little 
brother. We shall fight to the death. 
Remember what our father hath taught 
us, that men are born to shed their 
lives for their country and their king. 
Though I be but a girl, I shall do as 
he would wish, since neither of you is 
old enough to take command here.” 

Even the craven soldiers, inspired 
with some small degree of courage, 
agreed to follow their intrepid com- 
mander, whose first order was that 

105 


DEEDS OF DARING 


they should make a round of the pali- 
sades, that high fence of great logs 
with pointed ends that surrounded 
the forts and blockhouses planted in 
the wilderness, and to which many 
owed their safety, since they were well- 
nigh impossible to climb, and the gar- 
rison within had those that climbed at 
their mercy. As they hurried to the 
palisades, Madelon put on her head one 
of the soldier caps which she saw in 
the blockhouse. 

Why do you put that cap on, 
sister ? ” asked Louis, with a curiosity 
which he could not repress even at 
that critical time. 

“ So that the Iroquois shall not think 
that it is a girl making the rounds. You 
put one on also, and give one to Alex- 
ander.^^ 

The feeble band hurried to go around 
the inside of the palisades to see that 
106 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEBOUS 


all was secure, for on this defence of 
heavy logs their very lives depended. 

“ Thank the Holy Virgin that we 
came,” Madelon exclaimed; for they 
found not one, but half a dozen of the 
logs gone at different places, and had 
this been discovered by the Indians, 
there would have been little chance for 
the small band to have escaped being 
slain. 

“Help, Louis; push, Alexander! We 
can get this log into place while the 
soldiers set up those that have wholly 
fallen down.” As she spoke, the brave 
girl and the two little brothers tugged 
with might and main, and got the 
heavy log in place, and held it while 
the soldiers drove it into the ground, 
so that no opening was left in the pali- 
sades. All the other weak spots were 
mended under her direction, the two 

men working as she ordered, since 
107 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


they seemed incapable of taking charge 
themselves. When the palisades were 
well repaired, and Madelon thought 
there was no further danger to be 
feared from that direction, she said, 
‘‘Now must we make the cowardly 
Iroquois believe that there is a strong 
garrison within, and never let them 
think that my father is from home. 
So let each one in turn fire from the 
loopholes, and see to it, boys, that there 
is no shot wasted.” 

Finding that the firing was scatter- 
ing but continuous, the Indians, ever 
averse to making an attack on a for- 
tified place, withdrew to the woods. 

Shortly, however, they discovered 
some of the settlers who had escaped 
the morning assault, creeping back to 
the fort, and with horrid yells the 
savages pursued and killed them. The 

women and children in the fort cried 
108 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEKOUS 


and screamed without ceasing, knowing 
that their loved ones were being killed 
without mercy. At last Madelon, fear- 
ing that they would be heard by the 
Indians, and their distress taken as 
a sign of weakness, ordered them to 
stop, and tried to busy them about the 
defence. 

“Load and fire the cannon, Lavio- 
lette ; it will serve as a warning to any 
of the settlers that may have escaped, 
and I have heard my father say that 
Indians ever fear a cannon.’^ 

So the cannon was fired, and Made- 
Ion from her loophole saw the tall, 
painted forms of the enemy take 
refuge in the forest. But this was not 
the last duty of the little commander 
that night. From her place on the 
bastions of the fort she saw a canoe 
with a settler whom she knew well, 

named Fontaine, coming towards the 
109 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


landing. He was not alone, but had 
his wife and family with him. 

“ I must save them if it be the will 
of G-od. Laviolette, dost thou see any of 
the Indians lurking at the woods’ edge!” 

“ There be none very near at hand, 
Mademoiselle. Perhaps the cannon 
affrighted them. ’ ’ 

“ I pray that it may be so, since 
there is none but thou and I to save 
our friends, I fear.” 

“ Nay, there are the soldiers. Sure, it 
is their business to venture to the dock 
and bring in Sieur Fontaine.” 

‘‘Listen thou, Laviolette, the while 
I ask them to do this.” 

The soldiers summoned before their 
little commander, though testifying 
their willingness to follow all her 
orders within the palisades, absolutely 
refused to risk their lives by going be- 
yond its shelter. 


110 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEKOUS 


T was as I feared ; thou and I 
must save them, Laviolette. Thou 
shalt keep guard at the gate, and I will 
to the landing and bring them hither/' 
^^Pray, Mademoiselle, bid me to go, 
and thou stay and keep the gate/' 
“Nay, for I have heard my father 
say that the Indian is ever wary about 
that which he doth not understand. 
They will marvel why I go alone to the 
landing, and doubtless think it but a 
ruse to draw them hither, so that we 
may train the cannon on them again. 
If they appear, go thou in and bar the 
gate, since we must save the fort at 
any cost, and as many lives as is 
possible." 

So Madelon, with a bravery that 
might have put to shame the soldiers 
skulking within the fort, alone and in 
full sight, walked down to the landing, 

assisted Fontaine to take his family 
111 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


and goods from the canoe, and placing 
the party in front of her, marched 
back to the fort entirely unmolested. 
As she hoped, the Indians, seeing her 
put so bold a face on the matter, sus- 
pected that they had something to fear 
from the occupants of the fort; so, 
while they hesitated, Madelon acted. 
Once within the stronghold, how the 
little party wept and prayed with 

joy! 

“ Now indeed I feel as if there was 
hope, since thou art here to help me, 
Sieur Fontaine. There are enough so 
that we may divide the watch, and as 
long as daylight lasts, to fire on the 
enemy if ever one is seen to show him- 
self. Thou, Louis, and Alexander as 
well, shalt take turns at the loopholes, 
and see that thy aim go not astray.’’ 

The rest of the day was spent in 

making all the defences as strong as 
112 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEKOUS 


possible, in which Fontaine gave valu- 
able assistance, for he was a brave man, 
accustomed to the wiles of the murder- 
ous enemy, and wise in the ways of 
border warfare. 

At sunset a fierce northeast wind 
began to blow, and the first snow of 
the season mixed with hail filled the 
air, making it deadly cold and a night 
to try the spirits of the small band 
who were fighting for their lives. At 
first Madelon hoped that the storm 
would drive the Indians to shelter for 
the night, but they were constantly 
seen appearing at the edge of the 
woods, and, as it seemed, making prep- 
arations for an attack under cover of 
the darkness, and to gain entrance into 
the fort that night. 

“ Gro, Louis, and tell all the men that 
I would speak with them.’’ 

When the whole force was mustered, 

8 113 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


there were but six in all, two of them 
boys and one an old man over eighty. 
Madelon spoke to them thus, — 

“ God has saved us to-day from the 
hands of our enemies, and let us pray 
that we shall escape their snares to- 
night. As for me, know that I am not 
afraid. See, I will keep the fort with 
the old man and my brothers, whilst 
you, Pierre Fontaine, and the two sol- 
diers, La Bonte and Gachet, go into 
the blockhouse with the women and 
children, as it is the safest place. If 
I am taken, do not you surrender, 
even if the horrible Iroquois cut me 
to pieces and burn me before your 
eyes. I am but one, and in the block- 
house they cannot reach you if you 
care for yourselves as you should. So 
all to your places, and may God keep 
us through the night. 

Madelon tramped off to her chosen 

114 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS 


place of duty, with the old man and 
her young brothers. 

Louis,” she said, “ choose thou the 
place on the bastion where thou wilt 
serve, Alexander shall choose next, 
then the old man, and I shall take the 
last.” 

Each did as he was bidden, and all 
night through the wind and storm 
the two little boys, the aged man 
whose fires of life had burned so low, 
and the young girl kept vigil. All 
night long the cries of All ’s well ” 
rang from bastion to blockhouse, mak- 
ing it appear as if the place was fully 
manned by a large garrison. At about 
one o’clock the old man who was on 
guard at the place on the bastion near- 
est the gate, called out, — 

“ Mademoiselle, I hear something, 
mayhap the enemy.” 

His voice quavered with fear and 

115 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


fatigue, and as Madelon hurried to 
him she feared the worst had come. 

“ Where is it that thou hearest some- 
thing T’ asked Madelon, hardly above 
her breath. 

“There, just below, at the gate of 
the fort.'^ 

“ Surely I see them too, and well I 
know the poor creatures, since for 
many a day this summer past have I 
driven them to pasture.’’ 

The snow had whitened the ground, 
so that Madelon’ s bright eyes had been 
able to distinguish that the dark forms 
huddled at the gate were the poor 
remnant of the cattle that had not 
been killed or driven off by the Iro- 
quois. Summoning the others from 
the blockhouse, they took counsel to- 
gether as to whether they should 
open the gate and let the cattle 

in. The men were all anxious to do 
116 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEKOUS 


this, but Madelon feared the crafty 
foe. 

‘‘ How canst thou tell but what we 
let in the savages also? Such crea- 
tures of wile are they, that we know 
not if they be not concealed in the 
hides of the beasts already slaughtered, 
and if we are simple enough to open 
the gate they may enter the fort.^^ 

An hour passed, and still the cattle 
stood there, and there were no signs that 
the enemy was among them. So at last 
Madelon called Louis and Alexander. 

‘‘ Brothers,^^ she said, “ we must get 
in the cattle if it be possible. You 
shall stand on either side of the gate 
and have your guns cocked, while I go 
forth and drive the beasts in. If the 
Indians make a rush, shoot, and then 
shut the gate as quickly as thou canst. 

The heavy gate was swung back, and 
Madelon stepped out. It did not take 

- 117 


DEEDS OF DABING 


long for her to drive in the few cattle 
that remained of the generous herd 
that had gone to pasture that morning. 

The remainder of the night passed 
away without any further alarms, and 
when darkness disappeared, many of 
the fears and anxieties of the small 
garrison disappeared also, as it is 
always easier to face the fears that 
may be seen than those that are born 
of the imagination. 

II 

With the dawning of the second day 
of the defence of Castle Dangerous, the 
spirits of all rose, all, that is, except 
one, and this was Dame Marguerite, the 
wife of Sieur Fontaine. She, poor soul, 
had but lately come from Paris, and 
was yet a stranger to the difficulties 

and dangers of life in the wilderness. 

118 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS 


Her complaints were unceasing, and 
she gave her husband no rest, con- 
stantly imploring him to carry her to 
another fort. Her selfish thought was 
for herself alone, and she cried, — 

“ Save me, Pierre, save me. Was it 
to expose me to such horrible danger 
that you sent for me to come from 
Paris, where I was safe and happy 
“ I sent for you and our children, 
that we might all be together and 
make a home in this new free land. 
But methinks that perhaps it had 
been best to let thee remain where 
thou wast, and where there was noth- 
ing to disturb thy ease.’’ 

“ It is in my heart to wish well that 
I was there again, Pierre, and had 
never seen this hateful wilderness. 
Oh, wilt thou not take me to some 
place of safety ere I die with fright ? ” 
Peace, woman, and shame me no 

119 


DEEDS OF DARING 


further by thy childish plaint, for the 
very children are more brave than 
thou. As for Mademoiselle Madelon, 
she has the courage of a man, though 
she is but a girl, nor will I ever leave 
this fort while she is here to defend 
it.” 

After this the woman subsided into 
a peevish quiet, which was at least 
easier to bear than her complaints. 
All the others, even those who had 
lost fathers, husbands, or brothers, put 
aside their griefs, and united in an 
effort to compass their common safety. 
The meals were served out as usual, 
the work inside the fort progressed as 
it did each day, since each one felt that 
the best way to keep grief at bay was 
to occupy one’s self in helping others. 
During the middle of the afternoon all 
the people were called together by 

Madelon, so that their situation could 
120 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS 


be discussed. The soldiers, poor crea- 
tures, knew not what to counsel, and 
sought only to stay in the blockhouse, 
the safest spot. Small account was 
taken of them, though they were the 
very ones to whom the others should 
have looked for protection. 

Sieur Fontaine, the old man, and the 
two boys were of course for staying, 
and not endeavouring to escape by 
night down the river. Encouraged by 
them, Madelon made a little speech to 
the garrison and the women and chil- 
dren under their charge. 

‘^Dear friends,” said she, “never 
willingly will I give up the fort. 
Eather would I die than that the 
enemy should gain it. Hear what my 
father said to me, that it was of the 
greatest importance that the Iroquois 
should never gain possession of any 

French fort, since, if they gained one, 
121 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


soon they would grow more bold, and 
think they could get others, and after 
that all safety would be at an end.’’ 

“ What you say is true enough,” said 
the Sieur Fontaine, rising in his turn 
to encourage the people. Nor may 
any of us complain, if a girl be brave 
enough to stay on the bastions for a 
day and a night without rest or repose, 
and who ever carries before us a cheer- 
ful face. I, for one, cry, ‘ Viva, viva ! 
Long live brave Madelon ! ’ ” 

‘‘Viva, viva ! ” they cried, one and 
all; and the feeble garrison returned 
to their posts, reanimated and hopeful 
that relief would come to save them. 

For a weary week they were in con- 
stant alarm. Each day showed them 
the enemy lurking about, and each 
night made them fearful that the at- 
tack which had not come during the 

light would be attempted during the 
122 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS 


darkness. But every night dragged 
itself away at last, and each morning 
brought, if not the help so eagerly 
expected, at least courage to wait for 
it. On the eighth night poor weary 
Madelon was dozing in the fort, with 
her head pillowed on a table, and her 
gun beside her, when she heard the 
sentinel on watch call, — 

“ Qui vive ? ” 

She sprang to her feet, and with her 
gun in her hand ran up on to the 
bastion. 

Why called you ? 

“ Listen, Mademoiselle ! Dost thou 
not hear a sound on the river like the 
splashing of oars? ” 

‘‘ Surely yes ; there are voices too. 
Canst thou tell if they be French or 
Indian? 

No ; they breathe so low. Mademoi- 
selle.^’ 


123 


DEEDS OF DARING 


Madelon put her hands to her 
mouth, and called low but clear, — 

“ Who are you I 

The answer came back in the loved 
French accents, — 

‘‘We are Frenchmen. It is La 
Monnerie, who comes from down the 
river to bring you aid.” 

The gate was flung open wide, but 
even yet Madelon’s caution did not 
desert her, for she placed a sentinel on 
guard, and then alone, as she had gone 
before, she marched down to the land- 
ing-place to meet the soldiers. When 
she came face to face with Lieutenant 
La Monnerie, she saluted, and — 

“Monsieur,’’ said she, “I surrender 
my arms to you.” 

Being a gallant Frenchman, and as 
yet hardly understanding the situa- 
tion, knowing that there were soldiers 
within the fort, he answered, — 

124 



HAVE COMMANDED THIS FORT, MONSIEUR, DURING THE 

ABSENCE OF MY father/^ — Pane 125. 

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DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEEOUS 


‘‘ Mademoiselle, they are in good 
hands”; but he smiled as he said it, 
looking on the girlish form before him, 
with its soldier cap and heavy gun. 
Madelon saw the smile, and who can 
blame her that she answered, — 

“In better hands than you think. 
Will Monsieur come and inspect the 
fortf’ 

The Lieutenant and his forty men 
followed her up to the fort, found 
everything in order, and a sentinel 
on each bastion. He turned with 
a look of surprise to Madelon, and 
asked, — 

“ Why does not the commandant of 
this fort come to receive meT’ 

“ I have commanded this fort. Mon- 
sieur, during the absence of my father, 
since there was none other either will- 
ing or able to do it. Will Monsieur 
give me his orders?” 

125 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


The surprised lieutenant, after look- 
ing again about him, turned and 
bowed. 

“ What commands does Mademoi- 
selle wish me to give? For my part, 
there seems nothing for me to alter.’’ 

‘‘If Monsieur will relieve the garri- 
son, it would be well, since none of 
us have been off the bastions for a 
week.” 

We can well imagine that there were 
deep and peaceful slumbers in Castle 
Dangerous that night, and let us hope 
that the cowardly soldiers had to take 
their turn at last at bastion duty. I 
cannot find in the history that they 
did, however. 

Think of the pride and pleasure that 
Madelon's father and mother felt in 
their daughter when the news of her 
bravery reached them ! 

What they said to her when she told 
126 


DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEKOUS 


them all about it, history does not say 
either; but the facts of the defence 
were written down as Madelon herself 
told them, in obedience to the com- 
mands of the Marquis de Beauhamais, 
Governor of Canada. 

Even in those dangerous times, when 
one never knew what peril the next 
moment would bring forth, and women 
as well as men took their share in 
guarding homes and firesides, such 
wonderful bravery and determination 
in a girl of fourteen did not pass 
unnoticed. Through the efforts of 
those in power, Madelon was highly 
commended at the great French court 
over seas, and was granted a pen- 
sion by the King, to be paid to her 
each year as long as she should 
live. 

In another encounter with Indians 

many years later, she saved the life of 
127 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


a French gentleman whom she after- 
ward married. All her life was passed 
in the midst of peril, and on no occa- 
sion when bravery was demanded was 
Madelon ever found wanting. 


128 



The Pearl Necklace 

1767 


I 

0 0 D-B Y E,” SHE 

said. 

And then again, 
“ Good-bye. 

The voice of the 
young girl was choked with sobs, and 
tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. 

“ Good-bye, dear garden; good-bye, 
dear home ” ; and as she spoke she 
stopped and looked up at the old grey 
chateau which the warm afternoon sun 
had made glow with tints of rose and 
gold. 

She made a pretty picture standing 
there, even though her eyes were red 
9 129 



DEEDS OF DAEING 


with weeping, for her clustering curls 
were drawn high on her graceful head 
with a great comb, the lack of powder 
letting their bright chestnut tones 
shine in the warm evening light. A 
gaily flowered gown of simple muslin, 
less ample in its cut than the style 
affected by those who lived nearer the 
court, was fashioned so as to show a 
slender white throat. The delicate 
ruffles at elbow and neck showed that 
even in the country Mechlin, the lace 
of the hour, had its wearers. 

Looking about, eyes even less partial 
than hers would cease to be surprised 
that parting with so fair a scene should 
cause such grief. To Clemence Yal- 
vier the chateau was home. There she 
was born, had grown to girlhood, and 
though but seventeen was not only a 
wife, but the mother of a tiny child for 
whose sake she was preparing to leave 

130 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


parents, country, home, and friends, 
and seek that little known land across 
the sea where so many of her coun- 
trymen had gained a footing in the 
wilderness. 

The pointed turrets of the chateau 
stood out sharply against the deep blue 
of the afternoon sky, and the glass 
panes in the small windows sparkled 
as the late sunbeams rested on them. 
On one side huge vines of ivy clam- 
bered up the rough stones till they 
reached the roof, and amid their hospi- 
table leaves sheltered many a nest of 
linnet and of sparrow, whose cheerful 
songs made music at morning and at 
sunset. 

Clemence stood in the garden look- 
ing sadly at the roses whose sweet pro- 
fusion was due in no small measure 
to her care. There was the garden 
seat; here the sun-dial; yonder, above 

131 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


the wall which bounded the garden, 
rose the dove-cote, around which con- 
stantly hovered some of her feathered 
pets. 

‘‘ How can I leave you all ! she cried, 
as each familiar object rose before her 
eyes. My courage wellnigh fails me ” ; 
and she sank on her knees before the 
dial, — a grey veteran which gave no 
hint of time this afternoon, since it 
marked only sunny hours, and already 
the long shadows cast by the chateau 
fell across its face of stone. 

Just at that moment, when she was 
almost willing to abandon the thought 
of the long and terrible journey, she 
heard a footstep on the gravel of the 
paths. 

“ Ah, Clemence, dear heart, it grieves 
me almost past endurance to see your 
grief. Say but one word, and I will go 
forth alone, and shall send back for 

132 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


you and the little one when a home is 
made ready and when I have some 
comforts for you.” 

At the first sound of her husband’s 
voice Clemence had jumped to her feet, 
and running to him had laid her tear- 
stained face upon his shoulder. As 
he finished speaking, she had almost 
brought a smile to drive away the 
tears, and looking into his face she 
bravely made answer, — 

If it wrings my heart to leave dear 
France, Pierre, it would be a thousand 
times worse to have you go and leave 
me here, me and little Annette, for 
whose sake we undertake all these 
perils.” 

“ If I could think that this was really 
so”; and Pierre, scarce more than a 
youth himself, as he yet wanted several 
months of seeing twenty years, bore on 
his face a gravity that is rarely seen on 

133 


DEEDS OF DABING 


one so young. His dark eyes were sad, 
and though he smiled when he com- 
forted his youthful wife, it seemed as 
though it was but to cheer her. In 
truth, all his life he had comforted 
and protected her, for Pierre Valvier, 
like Clemence, had called the old 
chateau, the rose garden, the long 
straight terrace, and the fertile fields 
his home. 

Left an orphan at an early age, 
under the guardianship of Monsieur 
Bienville, the father of Clemence, the 
two children had played together, 
studied together, and finally were 
wedded, and now were preparing to 
go forth to the New World together. 

At this time Louis XV sat upon the 
throne of Prance. He was a weak 
monarch, devoted to his pleasures, 
and content to let his ministers rule, 
although he always took an active part 

134 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


in all the religions quarrels which dis- 
turbed and agitated France. Jealousy, 
which had long been smouldering be- 
tween France and England on account 
of the various colonies in America to 
which each country laid claim, broke 
out into war in 1756, and its effects 
were felt over the whole world. 

The brilliant victory of Admiral 
Galissonfere at Fort St. Philip, the 
chief citadel of Port Mahon on the 
Minorca Islands, the most important 
naval victory which Prance had gained 
in fifty years, filled the whole French 
nation with joy. Yet the succeeding 
years brought little but ignominy and 
defeat, and The Seven Years War, as 
this struggle was ultimately called, lost 
France not only the greater part of her 
navy, but, what was even more galling, 
many of her possessions in the New 
World. 


135 


DEEDS OF DARING 


Disapproval of the King and his min- 
isters drove to what was left of these 
colonies in America many Frenchmen 
of high character who foresaw nothing 
but disaster left for France herself. 
Among these was Pierre Valvier, who 
sought for himself and his little family 
a home in that new country where 
liberty of person and creed was as- 
sured. They were to start on the 
morrow for Calais, and thence take 
ship for New Orleans. 

The old chateau — old even in 1756 
— stood upon a gentle slope looking 
down upon the little fishing village of 
Staples. Such a tiny village it was, 
with its one-story huts, — you could 
scarcely call them more, — set upon the 
banks of the Canache, a broad shallow 
river so influenced by the ocean that 
when the tide was low the fisher-girls 
kilted up their scant skirts and waded 

136 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


across with their baskets of shrimps 
upon their strong young shoulders. 

Such a little village, and so poor! 

“Petit sou, petit sou, donnez-moi 
un petit sou I That was the cry 
heard on every side. There was hardly 
a hand in the hamlet which would not 
be held out in expectation of a small 
copper coin, should anyone from the 
chateau chance to pass through its one 
ill-paved street. 

Every year the poverty seemed to 
increase. Every year the revenues of 
the chateau grew less, — which was 
but another reason why Pierre, young 
and strong, should seek a home where 
those of gentle birth were made wel- 
come, and where the Crown gave broad 
acres of land to each and all who 
would go and settle there. 

Still, even with Hope and Courage 

beckoning, the parting was sad for all. 

137 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


Monsieur Bienville, the father of 
Clemence, was a soldier of the old re- 
gime. Tall, elegant, with the true air 
of grandeur which is born, not bred, 
he watched with sad eyes the prepara- 
tions for departure. Madame his wife 
could not suppress her grief, and de- 
clared that never, never again should 
she see her loved ones. 

“ Ah,” cried she, “ the poor children 
will be devoured by frightful beasts, I 
know it well, — if not by those that 
roam on land, by those more awful 
ones which dwell in the sea ! ” 

The distant land was to her a wil- 
derness, a desert; and, in truth, a 
few miles away from the city of New 
Orleans it was little else. 


138 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


II 

The rain was falling heavily as the 
old travelling carriage, drawn by four 
horses, lumbered up to the door of the 
chateau the next morning. Into it had 
been packed the necessaries for the 
journey to Calais, and two heavy wains 
had been sent off some days previously, 
laden with such goods as the young 
people were to take with them to the 
New World. 

Within doors the daughter was tak- 
ing leave of her parents, and as if to 
shorten the sad moment, her father 
took her hand, and placed within it a 
packet carefully bound in silk. 

“ Dear daughter,” said he, “ see that 
this packet is carefully guarded. In it 
is thy heritance, the pearl necklace 
which my mother had from her 
139 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


mother, and which in its turn must go 
to thy daughter, the little Annette.’’ 

Oh, father, why give to me that 
most precious thing! Safeguard it till 
we come again, as, if God is willing, 
we shall.” 

“It is yours, and then the daugh- 
ter’s, and,” he whispered in her ear, 
“ I have added all the jewels which 
were my mother’s portion. Keep them 
till time of need.” 

The impatient stamping of the 
horses on the cobblestones of the 
court, warned them all that they must 
part, and Pierre led Clemence to the 
carriage, where little Annette was 
sleeping on the broad lap of old Marie, 
who had petted and scolded her 
mother through her babyhood and 
was now going with her on that long 
journey to the land of which they 
knew so little and feared so much. 

140 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


As if desirous of making up for lost 
time, Jacques cracked his whip, and 
with the words, “Farewell, farewell,^^ 
ringing in the air, the coach passed 
quickly down the long drive and 
through the gates leading to the high- 
road, and turned in the direction of 
Boulogne, where they were to pass that 
night. 

The familiar scenes of her childhood 
never seemed so fair to Clemence as at 
this moment when she was parting 
from them. Here was the little church 
nestling among the trees, where she 
had received her first communion, 
and there stood P^re Joseph, waving 
adieux from the old grey porch, the 
unfamiliar tear stealing down his 
wrinkled cheek. 

Farther along on the other side of 
the road was the Rose d’Or, the quaint 
old inn, before whose hospitable door 

141 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


the village yokels were wont to gather 
of a summer’s evening and play at 
bowls upon the green. The very sign- 
board as it hung above the door and 
swung in the wind seemed to creak 
‘^farewell/’ and as the travelling 
chariot rolled by, Clemence hid her 
face upon her husband’s shoulder. 

At last her sobs grew less violent, 
and as if to call attention from her 
grief, little Annette awoke, and lying 
comfortable and rosy upon the lap of 
her nurse, cooed out her satisfaction 
as only a healthy, happy baby can. 
Pierre took the child in his arms, and 
the baby stretched out her hands 
towards her mother, who, turning to 
take her, found neglected in her own 
lap the parcel of jewels so carefully 
wrapped and handed to her by her 
father as a parting gift. 

See, Pierre, my father gave to me 

142 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


the pearl necklace which I wore on my 
wedding day, and it is to be the por- 
tion of little Annette, when she too 
marries/’ 

Hardly had the words passed her 
lips, when rude shouts were heard, and 
the coach gradually came to a stand- 
still. 

^‘Halt!” cried a voice almost be- 
side the window, and old Jacques the 
coachman could be heard saying, — 

“ But, messieurs, my master and mis- 
tress — ” 

Peace, knave, let thy betters speak 
for themselves.” 

At this a rude leering face was thrust 
into the window, and a man pulled 
roughly at the carriage door and cried, — 

“ Step out, and quickly too, and 
bring out your valuables with you.” 

“ But we are travellers, and have 
with us barely enough to carry us to 

143 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


Calais, where our ship lies at anchor,’^ 
said Pierre, trying not to let his voice 
show his anger and disgust. 

“ What will serve you will serve us 
also at a pinch. Is it not so, Jean I 
and he turned to a third ruffian who 
stood at hand, holding by the bridle 
some sorry-looking horses. 

“Truth, if we take all they have, 
^t will be enough, but do not wait too 
long,^^ answered the one named Jean, 
who wore a soldier’s cap with a soiled 
and broken feather trailing over one 
ear. 

At the first appearance of the high- 
waymen at the carriage window, Clem- 
ence had handed little Annette to 
Marie, and in so doing had managed 
to slip among her clothes the precious 
packet of jewels. She gave Marie a 
warning look, and when they were 
commanded to step from the coach, 

144 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


she begged, for the sake of the child, 
that it and the nurse might sit within. 

“You can see for yourselves that 
neither the infant nor the aged woman 
has aught of value,^^ said she. 

After hurriedly searching through 
the coach and finding nothing more, 
the highwaymen contented themselves 
with carrying off Pierre’s sword and a 
fair pearl ring which Clemence wore 
upon her finger, and a small bag of 
golden doubloons which Pierre had in 
the pocket of his travelling coat. The 
villainous trio had scarcely got safely 
away, when the reason of their haste 
became apparent, for a captain and 
four men-at-arms came around a turn 
in the road, urging their horses to a 
smart trot, when they saw the travel- 
ling carriage drawn up by the side of 
the ditch. 

“ Have three renegadoes passed this 

10 145 


DEEDS OF DABING 


way ? called the leader, as they drew 
rein. 

“Truly, but a few moments since,’’ 
said Pierre, with a rueful face, as he 
thought of his bag of gold. “ It would 
have pleased me much had you come 
this way but a few moments earlier, 
since I then had been the richer for a 
purse of doubloons.” 

“Stole they aught beside? ” asked the 
captain, as he put spurs to his horse 
and hardly waited for Pierre’s answer 
as they rode hastily away in the direc- 
tion the robbers had taken. 

When once more the coach was in 
motion, Clemence turned to Annette 
and clasped her in her arms, saying, — 

“ Of a truth, little one, ’twas fortu- 
nate indeed that you saved your in- 
heritance this time, — you and Marie.” 

“ Let us hide the packet better, 
Madame,” said Marie. “ Who can tell 

146 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


when another band of cutthroats may be 
upon us, and truly, as thou saidst, it was 
but chance that saved us this time/^ 

Without any delay the packet was 
carefully tied among the long skirts of 
little Annette, and Marie hardly ceased 
to tremble till the coach rolled into the 
yard of the inn at Boulogne, and the 
red light streaming from the open 
door showed them that warmth and 
shelter were to be had within. 

Early astir the next morning, re- 
freshed and cheered because the rain 
had ceased and the sun shone cheer- 
fully abroad, our travellers during the 
late afternoon of the next day entered 
the grey old town of Calais, the little 
Annette unconsciously guarding the 
packet which held her inheritance as 
well as the jewels which Monsieur 
Bienville had given as a parting token 
to his daughter. 


147 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


It was quite dark when the carriage 
was at last unpacked, and not till then 
did Pierre draw from behind a secret 
panel in the side of the coach the store 
of gold which was to suffice for their 
needs on board ship, and till they were 
established in the new home which 
awaited them on the other side of the 
ocean. 


Ill 

In the harbour of Calais rode at 
anchor the ship Esp^rance,^’ which 
was taking on passengers and their 
goods for the long voyage to New 
Orleans. Owing to the shallow water, 
the ship could not approach the quay, 
and all the watermen of the town were 
busy carrying back and forth those 
who, like our travellers, were outward 
bound, or those who came merely to 
say a last farewell. 

148 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


On the walls of the town were gath- 
ered a motley crew, who, not having 
friends on board, sought to gain some 
excitement by watching the partings 
of others ; and as from time to time the 
chimes rang out from the belfry be- 
hind the citadel, the little craft in the 
harbour became even more animated, 
since they now carried out to the “ Es- 
perance some who had been belated 
on their way thither, and sought to 
get themselves and their goods safely 
aboard before the turn of the tide 
should serve to carry the ship out 
through the Straits into the English 
Channel. 

Watching this scene from the 
cramped deck of the ship, Clemence 
and Pierre stood together, the former 
giving free vent to her tears, which 
rolled unheeded down her cheeks at 

the thought that she was leaving be- 
149 


DEEDS OF DABING 


hind her so much which had hitherto 
made her life joyful. 

Her sadness was reflected in her 
husband’s face, and at last he spoke. 

“Dear wife, ^tis not yet too late to 
return. Say one word, and I can call 
one of those dingeys which shall carry 
us back to shore.” 

“Nay, Pierre, I would go with you. 
But indeed I must weep, since never 
again do these eyes expect to look on 
my beautiful France.” 

“I pray your sacriflce may not cost 
too dear,” said Pierre, pressing her 
hand; and as she wept she whis- 
pered, — 

“ The grief I feel at parting from 
Prance is naught compared to what I 
should feel at parting from you.” 

Even as she spoke, there began such 
a scene of bustle and confusion that 
Clemence perforce dried her eyes to 

150 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


gaze upon it. The sailors were run- 
ning to and fro stowing the goods of 
passengers away, and piled on the deck 
were feather-beds and pallets of straw, 
each passenger providing such beds 
and covering as his station in life per- 
mitted, since the ship provided only 
the room in which these might be laid. 
Boatloads of people were leaving the 
ship, some merry, some grave, and 
above all the noise rose the sharp com- 
mands of the Captain. At last sounded 
the shrill notes of the boatswain's 
whistle, and the crew began to man the 
capstan bars. One of the sailors com- 
menced to sing to ease the labour off a 
bit, and at the sound of the well-known 
chorus, 

“ Ho, ho, batelier, batelier, 

Tirez, tirez, 

Ancre de flot, 

Tirez Roget, tirez Notet,” 


151 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


the crew joined in, so that the bars 
worked like magic, and the anchor 
rose into sight, then came short np, 
and finally, with another drive of the 
bars, swung all wet and dripping at 
the bows. 

Ere this the huge sails had been 
bent into place, and now with the 
fresh evening breeze began to draw, 
while from every side came the curious 
creak and tugging noise which is pres- 
ent in every sailing craft. ^Twas not 
many moments ere the “Esperance^’ 
had her nose pointed seaward, and 
was bowling along with the white 
foam fiying in her wake. All too 
quickly the shores and buildings of the 
town receded from the sight of those 
who gazed on them with tears, and 
even the belfry chimes had a melan- 
choly sound as they floated out over 
the water. 


152 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


Pierre and Clemence stood by the 
rail, rather apart from the other pas- 
sengers, and when the purple twilight 
had swallowed up Prance, Pierre 
said, — 

“ See, Clemence, a good omen. Look 
at the new moon.” 

“It is a happy sign, and glad am I 
to see it. How silvery it looks, and 
see the horn dips not at all, which 
argues well for a smooth voyage.’^ 

Though the “Esperance^^ was not 
a swift craft, she was a steady one. 
There were three weary months spent 
on board of her, and the moon proved 
a false prophet, since they encountered 
storms and head winds, and in addition 
had the alarm of pirates and the heat 
of the tropics. Worse even than the 
perils of the Atlantic were those en- 
countered when they entered the Gulf 
of Mexico, where also pirates lay in 

153 


DEEDS OF DARING 


wait, where there were contrary cur- 
rents, and worse than all, sandbars, 
upon which the ship grounded. Many 
manoeuvres were tried to ease her off, 
and there was despair felt on all sides 
when it was ordered that the baggage 
should be thrown overboard. Fortu- 
nately this sacrifice became unneces- 
sary, as the second high-tide fioated her 
off, and slowly the Esperance ” glided 
into deeper water. Pierre and Clem- 
ence heard with joy the rattle of the 
chain as the anchor was thrown over- 
board in the harbour of the Belize, 
thinking, poor souls, that the sufferings 
of the journey were over. Clemence 
turned with a bright smile to poor 
Marie, who sat upon a pile of bedding 
which lay on the deck, where it had 
been thrown in order to be ready for 
departure from the ship. The old 
nurse had suffered greatly during the 

154 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


long, tedious journey, and even now 
she looked sad and worn as she sat 
there in the sunshine, holding little 
Annette on her knees. 

‘‘Come, Marie, look less sad; soon 
will we reach the spot where our home 
is to be. Let me hold the little one.^’ 

“Oh, Madame, little did I know of 
the horrors before us ! Praise Ood 
that we still live, we and the little 
cat.” 

“ Truly the little cat and Annette * 
seem to have fared better than the rest 
of us,” said Clemence, laughing. “ Let 
us hope there will be fewer mice than 
you expect.” 

“ But, Madame, a cat is so comfort- 
able, and in this wild land there be few 
enough comforts, I well know.” 

Just at this moment Pierre hurried 
up to them, and said, — 

“Come, Clemence, bring Annette, 

155 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


while Marie helps me, for the Captain 
says we are to go ashore and wait at 
the house of the Commandant till 
boats come for us from New Orleans.’’ 

It was with scant ceremony that our 
little party and some of the other pas- 
sengers were packed into the ship’s 
boats and taken to Dauphin Island. 
Here they were made comfortable, and 
during the week of their stay recov- 
ered somewhat from the sufferings 
on shipboard. 

It was in two pirogues and two 
barges that they at last started on the 
trip up the river to New Orleans, and 
for discomfort the seven days passed 
in this journey far outdid all the 
fatigues sustained in the “ Esp^rance.” 

“Oh, Madame,” said Marie, “who 
ever saw ‘ Messieurs les Maringouins ’ 
of such size and with such stings 
before ? ” and as she spoke she waved 

156 


THE PEABL NECKLACE 


again the huge fan with which she 
tried to protect Annette from the 
ravages of the mosquitoes. 

An hour before sunset the rowers 
stopped each day, and the whole party 
encamped on shore, so as to get safely 
tucked in beneath the mosquito bars 
before les Messieurs ’’ should begin 
operations. 

If the nights were dreadful, the 
days were scarcely better, since the 
boats were piled high with goods, so 
that the passengers were cramped in 
narrow spaces and hardly dared to 
move. In fact, the little cat in its 
wicker basket, and Annette carried 
on the broad breast of Marie, were the 
most comfortable members of the 
party. They had no fears of going 
to feed the fishes, as had some of their 
elders. 

At length the weary trip was over, 

157 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


and when at length the boats drew up 
at the landing much of the discomfort 
was forgotten. 

The Crescent City lay before them, 
the white-walled houses gleaming in 
the sunshine, while the bells of the 
Ursuline Convent pealed a welcome, 
and there burned before the chapel of 
‘‘ Our Lady of Prompt Succour votive 
candles, to commemorate the safe 
arrival of another band of travellers 
from the distant land which every one 
in his heart called ‘‘home.'^ 

“ Pierre,’^ cried Clemence, surprise 
showing in every tone of her clear 
voice, ‘^but what a beautiful cityJ 
And oh, Pierre, behold the lovely 
ladies ! Scarce ever in my life have I 
seen such brave apparel.” 

Her eyes were fixed, as she spoke, on 
a group which came idly down towards 
the landing, the ladies elegant in robes 

158 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


of damask silk loaded with lace and 
ribbons, while beside them lounged 
officers in rich court suits, both men 
and women wearing powdered hair 
and having their faces decorated with 
black patches. 

Louisiana was passing through an 
interesting period of its growth, a 
changing from the pioneer days when 
the young officers from Canadian forts 
came down and made things lively 
with their merry pranks and boyish 
larks, their ceremonies and festivals. 
The Marquis de Vaudreuil was gov- 
ernor now, and brought with him the 
elegances and dignity which he had 
learned in years of life at the French 
court. The French and Swiss officers, 
but newly arrived, bore also the stamp 
of continental training ; and the house 
of the Marquis, reflecting as well as 
might be the elegance of Versailles, 
159 


DEEDS OF DARING 


was the centre of all that was most 
refined in the city. 

Tradition chatters yet of the gra- 
cious manners of the Marquis, and 
there are still drawn from chests and 
carved presses robes which once fig- 
ured at his balls, when court dress was 
the only wear. Though these gowns 
are now faded and tarnished, in the 
time when they were first worn they 
flaunted brilliant flowers on a ground 
of gold. The yellow bits of lace at 
elbow and corsage are frail now as a 
spider’s web, but then they were the 
latest patterns from Alengon and Flan- 
ders, and fit companions for the jewels 
which sparkled amongst them. 

It was at this time, when New 
Orleans boasted the greatest beauty 
and elegance of any city in the New 
World, that our little family landed 
on its quay. 


160 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


It is hard to conceive that while 
within the limits of the city there 
flowed such gay life as that seen in 
the Governor’s mansion, without, and 
but a few miles away, were untrod 
wildernesses. 

But so it was. 

Pierre and Clemence rested but a 
few days before they sought out the 
plantation where they so fondly hoped 
to raise a home and enjoy the fruits 
of the rich country which they had 
chosen as their own. 

The roads were poor, horses high in 
price and not at all plenty, so that 
Pierre bought some pirogues, a species 
of small boat, to take them and their 
goods the twenty miles up the Bayou 
Gentilly, to where their plantation lay. 

Poor Clemence, how gloomy looked 
the cypress swamps which stretched 
away on either hand as the heavily 

11 l6l 


DEEDS OF DARING 


laden boats moved slowly along ! 
Strange and unfamiliar were the long 
curtains of grey moss which swung 
back and forth from the branches of 
the trees, seeming to wave in a ghostly 
fashion even when there was no wind, 
and creeping up to the tops of the tall- 
est trees in its silent fashion, but ever 
turning aside from the bunches of mis- 
tletoe which stood out, great rosettes 
of bright green where all else seemed 
marked for decay. 

Even the brilliant-hued birds which 
flitted cheerfully from one twig to an- 
other, and sang from time to time, did 
not cheer her, for they seemed so un- 
familiar, her mind clinging more to 
those modest-coated friends, the linnets 
and flnches, which she had fed in the 
rose garden at the chateau at Etaples. 

Ever anxious to cheer her, Pierre 
said at last, — 


162 


THE PEABL NECKLACE 


‘‘ Sing, dearest Clemence. It seems 
so long since I heard your voice.’’ 

‘‘ How can I sing when my heart is 
sad? ” But even as she spoke she was 
sorry, since she knew that the good 
spirits of the little party depended 
largely on herself. 

‘‘What shall I sing, Pierre?” she 
asked, after a moment’s pause, and 
then, as if it had been on the tip of 
her tongue all the while, began, — 

Chante, rossignol, chante, 

Toi qu’as le coeur tant gai. 

Pour moi, je ne I’ai gu^re, 

Mon amant m’a quitt4e, 

<< Pour un bouton de rose 
Que trop tot j’ai donne. 

Je voudrais que la rose 
Fut encore au rosier ; 

Et que la rosier meme 
Fut encore a planter ; 


163 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


Et que mon ami Pierre 
Fut encore a m* aimer. 

** Tra la la, la la lere, 

Tra la lere, de la ri ra.” 

No doubt it was the mocking-bird^ s 
song which rang from the trees which 
brought to the mind of Clemence this 
song, which had been a favourite of 
theirs at home, and which told so mu- 
sically of the nightingale’s song, of the 
red of the rose, and of the love of 
‘‘ Pierre.” 

In five minutes the scene seemed to 
change from gloom to gaiety. Annette 
was cooing, Marie kept time to the gay 
little tune with the great fan which 
seldom left her hand, while the little 
cat in her efforts to gain her freedom 
tipped over her basket and set them all 
laughing. 

The Bayou Gentilly, up which they 

164 


THE PEABL NECKLACE 


were travelling in the pirogues, which 
were hardly more than dug-out canoes, 
was bordered at intervals on either side 
by the plantations of settlers who had 
owned the land for fifty years and over 
in some cases. 

« Why, Pierre, how is this? said 
Clemence, breaking off her song ; “ first 
the wilderness, then, see, the fields are 
planted ! 

“ These plantations are worked by 
the order of the King,’^ answered 
Pierre, and the little shrubs with ber- 
ries which have such fresh green leaves 
are the myrtle-wax bushes, from which 
wax for candles is made. We our- 
selves will have our plantation border- 
ing on the Bayou set with such bushes 
as these; it is so directed.’’ 

“ But I thought indigo and sugar- 
cane were what we were to plant. I 
know that I could not bring half the 

165 


DEEDS OF DARING 


things I wished, lest there should not 
be room for the indigo seeds and the 
little canes.’ ^ 

Pierre smiled and said, — 

“ Truly a house, dear girl, is the first 
thing to be considered, and that may 
best be obtained by a good crop of in- 
digo seed, since the planters hereabouts 
must needs get their seed from France, 
unless some are willing to raise seed 
only.” 

On the forenoon of the second day 
the boats drew up to the shore, and 
Pierre, anxious, but looking cheerful, 
said, — 

‘‘Welcome to your new home, Clem- 
ence. Q-ive me the little Annette, Ma- 
rie, since she, with her mother, must 
be the first to step on shore.” 

“ Home, say you, Pierre? ” and Clem- 
ence laughed, and looked ruefully, too, 

at the little log-cabin which had been 
166 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


hastily built by the negroes sent on in 
advance by Pierre. 

‘‘ Patience but for a little while, and 
in place of that rude home you shall 
see a house as fair as any in these 
plantations.” 

Laughing like two children, the 
young parents hastened to touch to the 
ground one of Annette^s tiny feet cased 
in its sandal, and as Monsieur Valvier 
handed the child back to its mother, 
he said, — 

What is that which makes the 
child’s garments so stiff? ” 

A warning glance from Clemence 
and a smothered exclamation from Ma- 
rie made him remember that it was 
the precious packet with the pearl 
necklace and jewels, of which the little 
girl was still the unconscious custodian. 

In New Orleans, indeed, they had 

been forced to draw on the packet, 
167 


DEEDS OE DAEING 


since it was necessary to have slaves to 
help them build and plant, and though 
there were frequent importations of 
them from Africa, the value of one 
working slave was equal to a thou- 
sand dollars of our money, and while it 
was generally paid in rice, Pierre, a 
new-comer, was obliged to pay in 
money. In order to do this, and also 
buy the precious seed which was so 
necessary, his own store was more than 
exhausted, and but for the packet 
so thoughtfully provided by Monsieur 
Bienville they would have been obliged 
to start out ill provided. 

IV 

Although the log-cabin was far 
different from the old chateau, and 
the garden planted with indigo and 

young sugar-canes a great contrast to 

168 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


the rose garden with its sun-dial at 
Etaples, the young couple were not 
unhappy, and little Annette grew 
apace. 

The only person who took the 
change sadly to heart was old Marie, 
and her love for her mistress and the 
little one was all that kept her alive. 

The fertile ^oil, so rich on the shores 
of the Bayou that it was fairly black, 
was soon heavily planted. There were 
rice fields in addition to those of indigo 
and sugar-cane, and for the home were 
planted watermelons, potatoes, peas, 
and beans; figs and bananas as well 
as pumpkins were abundant, and there 
were wild grapes and pecans to be had 
for the gathering. 

With a gun the larder could be kept 
supplied with ducks, geese, wild swan, 
venison, pheasants, and partridges, and, 

most curious of all, wild beef, for un- 
169 


DEEDS OF DARING 


branded cattle were considered common 
property, and many of them escaped 
from the ranges and roamed the forests 
in increasing companies. 

The second year the plantation 
showed the results of Monsieur Val- 
vier’s unceasing care, and he carried to 
New Orleans a crop of indigo seed 
which exceeded by many bushels his 
greatest hopes. 

As the slaves pushed off from the 
landing, Pierre, standing in the stem 
of the boat, called out, — 

What shall I bring thee back, 
Clemence? 

“Whatever you think I shall like 
best,” she answered, waving her hand 
in farewell. 

“What for the little daughter?’^ 
and as if she had only been waiting for 
the chance, Annette called out gaily, — 

“ Dolly. 


170 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


“How shall I get a dolly? Would 
you not rather have something else, a 
toy or a new frock ? ’ ^ 

“ No, papa, a dolly ” ; and Annette 
pressed in her arms the bit of stick 
enveloped in a piece of gay calico 
which served her as a substitute for 
the dearest of all toys. 

Two days later, when the little girl 
was helping her mother to gather the 
wax berries from the twigs, so that the 
yearly supply of candles might be 
made, they heard from the Bayou the 
cheerful song of the negroes as they 
rowed homeward. 

“Come, mamma, oh, come and see my 
dolly and Annette ran away, while 
her mother followed more slowly, talk- 
ing to old Marie, who was carrying in 
her arms a young Pierre, Annette^ s 
little brother, who had been bom since 

they had lived in the new home. 

171 


DEEDS OF DARING 


With a pleased face Monsieur Val- 
vier leaped ashore, hardly waiting for 
the boat to reach the landing. In his 
arms he held two parcels carefully 
wrapped in silver paper. 

Now, mamma shall guess first what 
is in her parcel,^’ he said; but Annette 
could not wait for that, and stood close 
at his side, saying over softly to 
herself, — 

“ My dolly, my pretty, pretty dolly.” 

Give Annette hers first,” said 
Madame Valvier; ‘4t will take me 
much time to guess what my parcel 
contains.’’ 

Annette sat soberly down and 
brought forth from many wrappings 
a beautiful doll, with red cheeks and 
blue eyes, dressed like a court lady, 
and newly come from France, as her 
father explained. 

“ She is most too beautiful to love,” 

172 


THE PEABL NECKLACE 


exclaimed the little girl, as she gently 
held the gay lady; and the father 
and mother could only smile at the 
serious face of the child as she re- 
garded the doll she had so fondly 
desired. 

“Now look at your gift, dear wife. 
I hope it will please you as much as 
Annette’s pleases her”; and Monsieur 
Valvier put into his wife’s hands the 
second packet. With almost as much 
excitement as Annette, her mother 
unrolled her gift, and exclaimed with 
pleasure at the length of shining silk 
which greeted her delighted eyes. 

“ Oh, but, Pierre,” she began ; but he 
stopped her with, — 

“ Yes, I know what you would say, 
silks and a log-cabin. But I have good 
news. The indigo seed brought such 
a high price that I have bought all 
that was needful for a house, and 

173 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


already it is loaded on barges and on 
its way hither.’* 

“ Grood news, indeed, that is. Marie, 
did yon hear that we are to have a 
house at last ? Who knows, perhaps 
it may be ready for the little Pierre’s 
christening.’ ’ 

The parish in which lay the Yalviers’ 
plantation also contained the homes 
of several other planters. These were 
either earlier settlers or blessed with 
greater riches than the Yalviers, and 
their plantations were dignified with 
dwellings which seemed commodious 
enough in those days, simple as they 
would appear in our eyes now. 

The planters’ homes were often built 
in what was called the “Italian style,” 
with pillars supporting the galleries, 
which were in reality roomy piazzas. 
The houses were surrounded by gar- 
dens of gorgeous flowering plants, and 

174 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


approached by avenues of wild orange 
trees. 

It was such a house which soon rose 
on the bank of the Bayou Grentilly, 
among the trees which flourished in 
that teeming soil, and the rude cabin 
was moved into the background to 
serve as the quarters for the slaves. 
Nor were there gaieties wanting, for 
the planters visited among their neigh- 
bours, the ladies coming in huge lum- 
bering coaches drawn by many horses, 
or by pirogue, while the men almost 
always rode, the saddle-horse for the 
master being almost a necessity. 

The succeeding years passed quickly, 
if not too prosperously, and tobacco 
was added to the productions of the 
Valvier plantation. Pierre had made 
himself honoured and respected among 
the men in his own and the neighbour- 
ing parishes, and his ardent love for 

175 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


France kept him ever a Frenchman, 
even though his home lay across the 
sea. 

Annette was by this time eight years 
old, quite a little mother, as Clemence 
fondly called her, since, grave beyond 
her years, she looked out for the little 
brothers and sister who had been 
born at the Bayou Gentilly. Poor 
Marie had died, a victim to an attack 
of the fever which hangs like a dark 
pall over that enchanting region, and 
more care had fallen on the shoulders 
of little Annette than really belonged 
there. She saw not only to the welfare 
of the children, but ruled the blacks 
and looked after the house in a fashion 
which astonished her mother, whose 
health had sadly failed, and upon 
whose natural energy the relaxing 
climate had laid its enervating spell. 

The French thrift which is so marked 
176 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


a quality in the women of that nation 
seemed to have passed by the mother 
and bloomed in the nature of the 
daughter, and Annette^s efforts were 
all which kept the home from being 
better than a cabin, left to the mercies 
of the negligent slaves. 

V'' 

There was one thing for which An- 
nette’s mother never lacked strength 
or energy, and that was the celebra- 
tion of the birthdays — “fete days,” 
she called them — of the little fam- 
ily. There was always some little gift 
forthcoming, were it only a basket of 
fine figs or a garland of flowers; and 
for Annette particularly her mother 
always made an extra effort. 

The birthday of the little girl fell in 

June, that month when all the world 
12 177 


DEEDS OF DABING 


is dressed in flowers, and when the sky 
above seems to bend its bluest arch. 
On this occasion Annette was to have 
a party, her very flrst, and all the chil- 
dren from the neighbouring plantations 
had been bidden ; and papa had made a 
special trip to New Orleans and come 
home with some wonderful and myste- 
rious packages, which had been quickly 
hidden away. At last the day arrived, 
and Annette felt it to be the happiest 
one she had ever known. 

“ To be nine years old and to have a 
party! Just think of that, Auguste! 
she cried, as she helped the little boy 
to dress. 

Auguste was thinking of it with so 
much glee that it made the dressing of 
him more than usually difficult, and 
Annette turned to little Pierre ; but his 
whole attention was given to keeping 
a secret,” for mamma had said that 

178 


THE PEABL NECKLACE 


Annette was not to know what her 
present was to be till they were all 
gathered at the table for breakfast. 

But he knew, did little Pierre, and it 
was a hard burden not to tell sister 
Annette. At last the little ones were 
ready, and Annette had seen that the 
simple fare which formed the break- 
fast — fruit and hominy, with coffee for 
the father and mother — was on the 
table. 

Such a clamour as arose. 

Oh, mother, let me tell.’’ 

‘‘ No, let me.” 

“ Oh, sister Annette — ” But they got 
no further, for Annette herself pulled 
the cover off a big box which was laid 
on her chair, and there within lay a 
white dress — oh, such a pretty one ! — 
and a little pair of slippers, with long, 
narrow ribbons to lace them criss-cross 

about the ankles, and, most lovely of 
179 


DEEDS OF DARING 


all, a long blue sash, which had on its 
two ends a fringe of gold. 

‘‘ Oh, dearest mother,’^ cried Annette, 
“was there ever anything so lovely; 
and the little brodequins,” pointing to 
the little slippers, “and a fan! Oh, 
mother, and you, too, father, how can I 
thank you both enough? 

Her father kissed her fondly and 
said, — 

“ My little daughter repays me every 
day.’^ 

The mother was well contented with 
Annette^ s pleasure for all the pains 
she had taken. 

“ And, sister Annette, see, I gave you 
the fan.’’ 

“And oh, sister, look at the pretty 
mouchoir; that is from me.” 

And the happy Annette kissed and 
thanked, and they were all so pleased 

that breakfast was quite forgotten and 
180 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


would have grown cold if black Mimi 
had not put her head in at the door to 
remind them of it. 

When Annette had put on the new 
birthday dress, laced the slippers 
around her slender ankles, and held 
the fan and kerchief, she ran into her 
mother^ s room to show her the effect. 

“ See, mamma, it just fits me ; and 
she gave the small skirts a toss and a 
pat, while her mother turned from the 
table where she had been standing with 
a small casket in her hand. 

Dearest Annette,’’ said she, in quite 
a solemn voice, “ I shall let you wear 
to-day what my father gave to me, say- 
ing that one day it was to be thine. 
When you are grown to be a big girl, it 
shall be yours to have always, but to- 
day you shall wear it because you are 
my good child, and I love you fondly.” 

As Madame Valvier spoke, she clasped 
181 


DEEDS OF DABING 


about Annette’s neck the pearl neck- 
lace, the only remnant of the packet of 
jewels which had come from France, 
and which had been drawn on when 
crops failed, or for the purchase of 
slaves, or for some of the many needs 
in a new country where money is 
scarce. 

‘‘ Oh, mamma! ” and Annette’s voice 
was low with pleasure as she gently 
touched the rows of shining pearls 
which seemed far too costly a jewel 
for the neck of a little girl, and quite 
out of place over the modest frock. 

Are these really for me some day I 
Did grandpere say it should be so?” 
and Annette listened while her mother 
told her of her grandfather’s injunc- 
tion, and how old Marie had hidden 
them in Annette’s own clothes and 
saved them from the highwaymen. 

The time passed quickly before the 
182 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


little guests began to arrive, for it was 
to be an afternoon party, and some 
were brought by boat on the Bayou, 
while others rode on pillions behind 
black Philippe or Jean, as the case 
might be, sitting very still so that the 
best frocks would not be rumpled. 

Many games they played in the long, 
cool galleries, or on the grass before 
the house. Ball was one of them, 
and when they were tired of this they 
played at hide-and-seek, finding many 
good and secret nooks among the trees 
and wax-myrtle shrubs, which were so 
bushy and so green. 

“What shall we play next?’’ asked 
Annette, anxious that her guests should 
have a good time, and some one sug- 
gested “ Hugh, Sweet Hugh,^' that game 
of many verses which has been played 
by high and low through so many cen- 
turies and in all countries. 

183 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


The children made a pretty sight as, 
circling in a ring, they sang merrily, — 

‘ ‘ Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh, 
Come up and get the ball.** 

“ I will not come, I may not come. 

Without my bonny boys all.*’ 

Even after the tragic death of Sweet 
Hugh their voices rang out clearly till 
the last verse, — 

“ And all the bells of merry France 
Without men’s hands were rung ; 

And all the books of merry France 
Were read without men’s tongue. 

Never was such a burial 
Since Adam’s days begun.” 

Then, half frightened at their own 
game, they scampered into the house, 
where Madame Valvier was awaiting 
them, and where, spread on trestle- 
boards, were all the dainties so loved 
of children, — fresh figs with cream, 
sweet chocolate, little cakes made of 

184 . 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


nuts and honey, and right in the centre 
a great round birthday cake with a 
dove on the very top. 

At this last touch Annette was as 
much surprised as the other children, 
and in answer to her wondering look 
her mother said, — 

Your father brought it from New 
Orleans; it is his gift to you.’’ 

After it had been admired, Annette 
cut the first piece, and the merry meal 
seemed over all too quickly for the 
children who had to take their way 
homewards, reluctant to have an end 
put to such unusual festivities, and not 
half aware of the necessity of being safe 
in their own homes before nightfall. 

When the last one had gone, Annette 
took off her unaccustomed finery, and, 
holding in her hands the splendid neck- 
lace, looked with wonder on the round 
globes of pearls, which showed on their 

185 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


satiny faces the shifting tones of rose, 
blue, pale green, and yellow. 

“ Ah, mother,’^ she sighed, to think 
that so beautiful a thing should be 
mine ! ” 

Remember always, little daughter, 
that it was first my mother’s portion, 
then mine, and shall be yours, never to 
part with.” 

“Of a truth, dear mother, I should 
wish to keep it always. But,” and 
here she hesitated, “you know the 
other jewels which grandpere gave 
have all gone.” 

“Those were my own, but this is 
different, and should be kept always, 
except in case of gravest need.” 

“Q-ravest need — what is that, mam- 
mal” and Annette’s blue eyes looked 
up solemnly into her mother’s face. 

“ Does it mean to save a life, 
mamma? ” 


186 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


Madame Valvier, hardly appreciating 
the earnest little soul which was listen- 
ing to her words, answered, — 

Yes, to save life or honour. Now, 
put it in its box, and come with me 
till I show you where it is hidden.^^ 
In a small room where the children 
kept their few playthings, some rude 
toys and some bright shells and beans, 
Madame Valvier paused, and, stooping, 
took from beneath the window a small 
board, which disclosed a box-like cup- 
board lined with lead. 

“ Here it is kept with the rest of our 
treasures, Annette, the papers which 
belong to your father and the grants 
of our land. I show this place to you 
because you have a wisdom beyond your 
years, and are indeed my little comfort.^^ 
Annette’s face grew rosy with 
pleasure at these words, and holding 

her mother’s hand, she whispered, — 
187 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


“I love you truly, dearest mamma, 
and I am the happiest girl in the 
world.’’ 

When the little ones were in bed, 
Annette crept up on her father’s lap 
and had the crowning joy of the day, 
a long story of his childhood’s days 
in France ; and she listened entranced, 
as she had hundreds of times before, 
to his descriptions of the old grey 
chateau at Staples, the rose garden 
with its sun-dial, and, best of all, to the 
tales of how he and her mother used to 
scull down the broad shallow Canache, 
and then at the river’s mouth search 
among the rocks and seaweed for 
shrimps, while out at sea the big ships 
went sailing past, with their white or 
brown sails swelling with the fresh 
wind. 

Even with the interest she felt in the 

story, poor Annette, tired with so much 
188 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


pleasure, nestled lower and lower in 
her father's arms, and finally her head 
fell on his shoulder. 

“ She sleeps," he said, ‘‘ poor little 
girl, fairly tired out with too much 
happiness"; and taking her in his 
strong arms, he carried her off to her 
room, where she was soon settled in 
her bed, the process of undressing 
hardly waking her. 

VI 

With each succeeding year there 
were more and more settlers coming 
to the fiowery land of Louisiana. If 
they had fiocked thither in the time 
of the Regent, that clever and witty 
intriguer, they came more eagerly dur- 
ing the reign of Louis XV, so shallow a 
king that it is hard to conceive how he 

won the name of “ The Well-beloved." 

189 


DEEDS OF DARING 


It was a strange company which 
made up the population of the Cres- 
cent City, not only those from Paris 
with their elegances and velvet coats, 
beneath which beat such loyal hearts, 
but rubbing shoulders with them in 
street and cafe were many of far 
rougher exterior, who had come down 
from the settlements in Canada, and 
learned to adore the little city which 
was so different from the homes which 
they had left in the cold North. 

Yet each and every one of these, 
marquis from France or pioneer from 
Canada, or even the sad-faced Acadian 
refugee who had been welcomed to 
these hospitable shores, had a heart 
which beat for France alone. 

With but the least assistance they 
would have swept the Grulf and made 
themselves masters of that inland sea, 

and not only held the possessions of 
190 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


the mother country on land, but added 
to them. 

Frenchmen in language and in their 
hearts, they put up with the expulsion 
of their beloved Ursuline sisters, since 
the mother country so willed it, only 
allowing themselves the liberty of 
giving vent to their feelings by indulg- 
ing in an unlimited number of satirical 
songs, burlesques, and pasquinades, as 
they were called. Little did they 
know, as they trod the white streets 
of the city, the deadly blow to those 
same stout hearts which France was 
plotting, — France, whom they loved 
so fondly and in whom they trusted so 
implicitly. 

Completely dominated by his prime 
minister, Choiseul, Louis XV followed 
where this ugly, brilliant, inconstant 
man led, and trafficked first with Aus- 
tria and then with Spain, till in 1761 
191 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


Choiseul put in shape his famous 

Pacte de Famille/’ which united all 
the royalties of Bourbon blood and 
which formed into one great band 
the thrones of France, Spain, Turin, 
Naples, and Sicily. 

Although Choiseul had the audacity 
to frame this agreement, and Louis XV 
had the folly to sign it, they did not 
have the courage to proclaim it, and 
so it remained a secret for several 
years. 

It was not till October, 1764, that 
the news arrived at New Orleans that 
Louisiana had, by secret treaty, been 
ceded to Spain, and instructions were 
sent to Monsieur D’Abadie, the Oov- 
ernor, to hand over to the envoy of 
Spain, who would shortly arrive, the 
whole colony and its possessions. 

The blow was stunning ! 

At first it could not be credited. To 
192 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


be tossed like a plaything from France 
to Spain, that cowardly Spain who 
had never assisted them in any way, 
who had not even fought to get them, 
whom they had outwitted and over- 
matched in every contest, — this was 
too much! 

Not many hours elapsed before the 
city was in a ferment. Grroups gath- 
ered on the street corners and loudly 
denounced the proceedings. The wine- 
shops held excited bands who de- 
claimed in passionate language against 
both king and country that could treat 
a colony in such fashion, and the 
chorus which rose and swelled pro- 
tested that it could not be borne. 

Swift pirogues carried the news 
among the plantations which lay along 
the Bayous, while men on horseback 
went to those in the interior. 

Meetings were called in the parishes 
13 193 


DEEDS OF DARING 


first, rand then a convention was 
planned in New Orleans itself, to which 
every parish in the State was to send 
delegates. The subject was to be dis- 
cussed, and then the King was to be 
informed of this cruel, this awful 
thing that he was doing, and he was 
to be petitioned to listen to the voice 
which echoed his own tongue, and 
which under every trial had spoken 
but loyal words of him. 

Every parish sent its most notable 
men, and of these Monsieur Yalvier, 
Annette's father, was one. The meet- 
ing at New Orleans was a gathering 
of all that was wise and distinguished 
throughout the whole State, and it was 
unanimously decided to send to France 
a delegation of three men, to bear to 
the King himself their petition. 

These three men left for France on 

the first vessel which sailed, and one 
194 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


can imagine the passionate nature of 
the appeal which they carried with 
them, in which the whole colony be- 
sought the King to let them die as 
they had lived, — Frenchmen to their 
hearts’ core. 

Think of the feeling of relief which 
swelled every heart as the crowds 
gathered to see the envoys depart 
bearing the message to Prance and to 
their King! 

Not one doubted but that the elo- 
quence of Jean Milhet, who headed it, 
would win back their loved State from 
the hated Spaniard, and that he would 
speedily return with the joyful news, 
and that once more it would be French 
land for French men. 

To the doors of France are laid many 
acts of cruelty and oppression, but 
there is no sadder story than the grief 
and humiliation to which this little 

195 


DEEDS OF DARING 


delegation was subjected. For one 
whole year they waited, were put off 
from day to day with first one excuse 
and then another, and at last, sick 
and heart-broken, sailed back to New 
Orleans without ever having seen the 
King nor presented their petition! 

Even though their chief envoy did 
not return, and there was no news of 
the success of their petition, the people 
of Louisiana seemed to have no doubt 
as to its success. Judge then of the 
fever of excitement into which they 
were thrown when a letter arrived in 
July, 1766, saying that Don Antonio 
de Ulloa, the Spanish envoy, was on 
his way to take possession. 

What should be done? 

Whither should they turn? New 
meetings were called, the militia was 
strengthened as much as possible ; but 

month after month passed away and 
196 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


Don Antonio did not arrive, so that the 
people quieted down and hope bubbled 
up afresh. 

One morning in February, 1767, when 
the Commandant awoke, he found 
anchored below the Belize, that old 
fortress at the mouth of the river, a 
large frigate flying the Spanish colours. 
On board was Don Antonio with his 
personal suite, two companies of Span- 
ish infantry, and some Capuchin 
monks. 

In March, in a frightful storm of 
wind and rain, they landed on the 
levee in New Orleans, and were met 
by a sullen crowd of citizens and by a 
mass of unwilling French troops. 

The Spanish envoy, haughty, severe 
in aspect, and a martinet in demanding 
that deferential ceremonial etiquette 
which was so firmly engrafted into 

Spanish nature, either could not or 
197 


DEEDS OF DABING 


would not understand the feelings 
which prompted the ardent Louisian- 
ians to cling to their nationality. He 
expected the people to change at his 
coming their flag and their allegiance, 
the soldiers their service, and all to has- 
ten to assume the Spanish yoke. He 
could not understand their refusal to 
do so, and when the Superior Council of 
the city requested him to show his cre- 
dentials, he abruptly refused, although 
he agreed to defer taking possession 
till more Spanish soldiers were sent to 
him. 

This was at least the form to which 
he agreed ; but he proceeded to get con- 
trol as far as possible, visiting in turn 
all the military posts, and replacing the 
French flag and the French command- 
ers with Spanish ones. 

Over New Orleans alone did the 
French flag still wave. 

198 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


It may be easily understood that such 
high-handed deeds were not accom- 
plished without protest on the part of 
the people of Louisiana. Curtailed of 
their possessions on every side, for by 
the “ Treaty of Paris ” much had been 
ceded to the English, they proposed 
to make as stubborn a resistance as 
possible. 

In the remote parishes the feeling 
flamed almost higher than at New Or- 
leans itself, since the sight of the de- 
tested Spanish flag was an ever-present 
insult. 

During the year which had passed 
since the deputation had been sent to 
Paris bearing the memorial to the King, 
Monsieur Valvier had wasted neither 
time nor effort to arouse those with 
whom he came in contact, and keep 
them rigorously opposed to Spanish 
rule. 


199 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


There were stormy meetings in the 
parish to which he belonged, in which 
he was always an impassioned leader. 
There were secret meetings at his and 
the neighbouring plantations. He be- 
came gloomy, a man with but one 
thought in his head, — the disgrace of 
belonging to Spain. 

It was small wonder that with its 
head so distraught the plantation fell 
into neglect. The crops of indigo 
and tobacco failed, since the master’s 
eye no longer kept watch on careless 
servants. 

Madame Yalvier’s ill-health increased 
as the winter season approached, and on 
little Annette fell more and more the 
care of the family and home. Scant 
crops made scant money, and it was 
only by unceasing care that Annette 
kept the active little brothers clothed 

and fed, and saw that the languid mother 
200 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


had her fresh fruit and cafe au lait, and 
that her favourite gowns of delicate 
white were kept mended and ever 
fresh. 

Nor were these all her duties. 

At evening, when her father re- 
turned depressed and miserable from a 
never-ending discussion with neighbour- 
ing planters as to the ignominy of their 
lot, it was Annette who met and tried 
to cheer him. She had ever something 
ready for him, were it only a bowl of 
fresh figs ; and the earnest child at last 
became the confidant of the despairing 
man. 

One memorable evening he returned 
later than usual, and to Annette’s sur- 
prise and pleasure his eyes were bright 
and shining, and he carried his head 
proudly and with confidence. Tenderly 
embracing Annette, he cried, — 

“ At last, at last have I prevailed on 
201 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


these neighbours who hate and yet fear 
the Spanish. All is ready, and to- 
morrow we at least will show Don Ulloa 
that there are loyal Frenchmen enough 
in Louisiana to refuse to live under the 
Spanish flag and his detestable rule.” 

“ But, father, what is it you would 
do?” 

“ Lean closer, my child, for none 
here must learn of this till everything 
is ready and we leave for the city.’’ 

“ Does mother know, dear father? ” 
No, Annette, I dare not tell her ; her 
constant illness makes her timorous.” 

The young girl pressed closer to his 
knee, her large, serious eyes flxed on 
his face. So wrapped was the man in 
his own thoughts that he knew not the 
heavy burden he was laying on the al- 
ready overcrowded young shoulders. 

To her the father unfolded his plans. 

“ Well you know the cruel blow 
202 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


that has been dealt to us from France, 
and how the Spaniard Don Antonio 
has sought to make Spaniards of us 
all, — true-born Frenchmen that we are ; 
how he has hoisted the Spanish flag, 
and manned all our forts with Spanish 
soldiers. To-morrow evening there will 
start from this plantation Monsieur 
Biron, myself, and all the owners of 
the plantations in this parish, with 
such of their men as they can arm, and 
by boat we will go down the Bayou, 
stopping at each plantation as we go, 
and gathering men together till we 
reach New Orleans.^’ 

“ Oh, father ! interrupted Annette, 
breathlessly, “will you take an army 
into the city? ’’ 

“ So I hope ; and these, with the 
loyal French Giuard and the citizens, 
will enable us to sweep onwards, and 
Don Antonio will And what manner of 

203 


DEEDS OF DARING 


men he has to deal with, and we will 
not rest till he is safely confined within 
the walls of the Belize/’ 

In the excitement of his story Mon- 
sieur Valvier’s voice rose till there 
came from the room beyond, 'where 
Madame Valvier lay, the sleepy ques- 
tion as to why they talked so late. 

Putting his finger to his lip to warn 
Annette, he replied, — 

“ I but tell a tale to Annette, who 
will go now to bed.” Kissing her 
fondly good-night, he whispered in her 
ear, — 

“ Remember to tell not a word, An- 
nette, and lest I do not see you alone 
again, I say farewell, till we put the 
hated Spaniard where he will do no 
further harm.” 

Although Annette crept to bed, her 
eyes for a long time stared into the 
darkness. She feared, not for the suc- 

204 . 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


cess of her father’s mission, but lest in 
some way he be hurt. She saw, as he 
described it, Don Ulloa safely confined 
in the dreaded Belize, and she rejoiced 
in her childish heart over the grand 
part her father was to take in keeping 
Louisiana for the French. 

When the next night came, she peeped 
cautiously out from between the case- 
ments, and saw dark figures take their 
places in the pirogues drawn up at the 
landing and silently paddle down the 
Bayou. 

She saw her father in the leading 
boat, and with him were several of 
their own men, and in the flaring light 
of the single torch she saw the gleam- 
ing of the guns. 

In a silent adieu she waved her hand, 
even though she knew that her father 
could not see her, and confiding on his 
belief and assurance of success, she fell 

205 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


into a deep and dreamless sleep, and 
over the whole plantation rested an 
absolute quiet. 

But her father — Ah, the sadness 
of that night trip! 

The few men who had started with 
him from the plantation in the hope 
that they would be joined by many 
more of wealth and power were cruelly 
disabused of their beliefs. There was 
but a handful more ; but in the small 
group was the spirit of an army, and 
it was hoped that Don Ulloa could be 
surprised just before dawn, and with 
the first successful blow many would 
hasten to join the victorious party. 

It was the old story of a forlorn 
hope. 

In some way Don Ulloa had been ap- 
prised of the uprising, and the party 
had barely set foot on the levee at 

New Orleans before they were sur- 
206 


THE PEABL NECKLACE 


rounded and taken prisoners by a 
strong party of Spanish soldiers. 

Monsieur Valvier, as the leader, was 
not detained in the city, but sent up 
the Bayou to Fort St. John, a desolate 
spot on the shores of Lake Pontchar- 
train, at the head of Bayou St. John. 

During the first two days of his 
imprisonment Monsieur Valvier was 
stunned. He seemed incapable of real- 
ising the misfortune which had be- 
fallen not himself alone, but the little 
family at home. Too late he saw that 
the lukewarm policy of the others 
whom he had tried to induce to join 
him was not all selfish, and as happens 
so often to the enthusiast, he saw too 
late the folly of his actions. 

It was the stinging thought of these 
helpless sufferers at home which at last 
aroused him, and spurred him on to see 

if their welfare could not be in some 
207 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


way assured. The intendant in charge 
of the fort was hard and cold, but, as 
Monsieur Valvier soon learned, was not 
averse to accepting a ransom. 

Indeed, he informed Monsieur Val- 
vier of this fact himself, and allowed 
him to send a letter home telling of 
his personal safety, and that his liberty 
could be bought. Till this letter ar- 
rived the plantation on the Bayou 
Gentilly had been a sad place. 

When, as one day after another passed 
and Monsieur Valvier did not return, 
Annette, not knowing what to do, 
told her mother of the uprising, and 
Madame Valvier, with health already 
undermined, became so seriously ill 
that poor Annette knew not which 
way to turn. 

One or two of the slaves had strayed 
home, and from them Annette had 

learned that at least her father was 
208 


THE PEABL NECKLACE 


alive, and at last came the letter which 
told that he could be ransomed if a 
sufficient sum of money could be raised. 
The letter ended, — 

‘‘Alas, dear child, I know too well 
that there is naught left which may be 
turned into money to procure my free- 
dom. I see too late that I have been 
led away from my duties to my little 
ones and their mother. God grant 
that they may be kept in safety ; as for 
me my heart is breaking! 

Madame Valvier was too ill to give 
Annette any counsel. All day long 
the child kept saying to herself, — 
“My father must be ransomed, but 
how ? Where shall I get the gold ? 
Oh, mamma, if you could but help 
me! 

At last, passing through the chil- 
dren’s room while waiting on her 

mother, Annette's eyes fell upon the 
14 209 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


boards which concealed the leaden- 
lined box containing the papers and 
necklace. 

“ The pearl necklace/’ she cried softly 
to herself, “ why have I not thought of 
it before? ” Removing the cover, she 
felt hurriedly within the enclosure to 
assure herself that it was safe. 

The rest of that day, as she went 
about her duties, her one thought was 
of the way to get it to her father, and 
at last she decided that she must go 
with it herself. There was no one 
whom she could trust with this price 
of her father’s freedom, and her heart 
was full of the thought of saving him, 
so that there was no room for fear. 

She determined to start that night, 
and, used from infancy to the manage- 
ment of a boat, she did not hesitate as 
to the means of travelling. 

But her mother — how to leave her ? 

210 


THE PEAKL NECKLACE 


She called the woman from the 
kitchen, an old slave but a faithful 
one, and bade her sleep within the 
next room, so that if Madame called 
she should hear her. 

“For,"’ said Annette, “see, Tignon, 
I must go on a message for my father. 
When my mother wakens, tell her 
that I shall soon return, — remember, 
Tignon, soon return.^' 

As soon as it was dark, Annette 
took from its hiding-place the neck- 
lace, and as the cool, milky globes 
slipped through her fingers, she kissed 
them, saying, — 

“Dear father, to think that these 
may save thy life. I remember my 
mother said that they were never to 
be parted with save ^ for life or honour.’ 
Perhaps this time it may be both, but 
I cannot tell.” 

For a moment she was at a loss how 
211 


DEEDS OF DABING 


to carry them, and then putting them 
about her neck she snapped the clasp 
securely and drew over them the waist 
of her gown, which was fashioned to 
come high in the neck. 

‘‘ ’T is the easiest and the simplest 
way, and certainly none would think 
that such a thing lay beneath my cal- 
ico frock.^’ 

She kissed the little brothers and 
sister, and bade Pierre take good care 
of them till she should return, whis- 
pering in his ear, — 

“ I go for father, but tell of this to 
no one till I return.’* 

And Pierre, with his wide-staring 
eyes fixed on her face, could only 
say,— 

“ I will promise.” 

At the landing Annette chose the 
smallest and lightest pirogue, and, with 

the caution one would have expected 
212 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


from an older and wiser head, put in 
the bottom an extra paddle and a 
small basket of food. She pushed off 
the little dug-out, and turning its head 
down stream looked back with con- 
fidence, saying in her brave young 
heart, — 

“ Shortly I shall return, and with 
my father.’^ 

All night the child floated and 
paddled down the silent and lonely 
Bayou, often terrified by the strange 
night sounds which came from the 
swamps, and occasionally cheered by 
the light glimmering in the window 
of some of the planters’ homes on the 
shore. When she was most alarmed, 
she would reassure her little trembling 
heart by putting her hand on the breast 
of her frock, beneath which lay the 
necklace, and by whispering to herself 
the beloved name of “ father.” 

213 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


The rising sun saw her heading her 
boat into the small channel which led 
into Bayou St. John, and it was late 
afternoon when the weary Annette saw 
frowning before her the rough pali- 
sades which enclosed Fort St. John. 

The soldier on duty could scarcely 
believe his eyes when the little pirogue 
came alongside the quay, and was still 
more astonished when with trembling 
voice Annette said, — 

“ Sir, may I please see the Grovernor?^’ 

“ The Governor ! why, what should 
the Governor do here? Who are 
you, and what would you with the 
Governor?” 

“ I have business with the Governor, 
sir.” 

At this reply the man laughed long 
and loud, and poor Annette was ready 
to weep with disappointment and fa- 
tigue. Then remembering that at any 

214 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


rate her father was within those walls, 
she plucked up courage and began 
again. 

“If Monsieur the Governor is not 
here, is there any great general here I ” 
The soldier laughed again, and said 
below his breath, — 

“Great general — no; but the great 
Sir Intendant is here, if you can do 
your business with him”; and there 
was another burst of laughter as the 
burly man looked at the slender form 
standing before him. 

“ Take me to him, please,” said she, 
and she gave one touch to the frock 
below which lay the precious heirloom 
as the soldier turned to lead the way 
within the enclosure. 

“Ho, Roget!” he called, “this lady 
comes on business with Monsieur the 
Intendant”; and poor frightened An- 
nette was passed along mid the rude 

215 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


jests of the soldiers, till she reached 
an ante-room to which was attached 
the small office of the Intendant. At 
last a voice said, — 

‘‘ You may enter’’ ; and Annette, who 
between fright and fatigue was ready 
to weep, found herself standing before 
a man with flashing eyes and a bril- 
liant scarlet and gold uniform, who 
was looking at her with unconcealed 
interest. 

‘‘Well, child, what would you with 
me? ” and Annette, raising her head, 
bravely answered, — 

“ I come to ransom my father. Mon- 
sieur Valvier.” 

The Intendant frowned; and surely 
the pale child before him, in a simple 
calico gown, with empty hands and 
eyes full of unshed tears, hardly seemed 
able to ransom a bird, much less a 
political prisoner. 

216 


THE PEARL NECKLACE 


The Intendant^s voice was harsh and 
cold as he said, — 

‘‘Ransom means gold, child, — gold, 
or lands.’^ 

“Alas, Monsieur, I have neither,^^ 
said the trembling little girl, “but I 
thought perhaps — ’’ And she drew 
from its place of concealment the 
splendid necklace. 

The Intendant could scarcely con- 
ceal a start. 

“ How came you by this? he asked, 
letting the rich strings glide through 
his fingers. 

“ ^T was the marriage portion of my 
grandmother in France, then of my 
mother also, and was to be mine. I 
will give it to you for my father, 
Monsieur Valvier.’^ 

The sight of the jewels recalled to 
the Intendant scenes in his native 
Spain, where the Spanish grandees 

217 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


loved to ruffle it in laces and jewels 
of the choicest description, and where 
the dusky Spanish beauties often chose 
pearls, since these milky gems but 
served to throw out the fire of their 
eyes and the rich tones of their olive 
skins. As he mused, passing the pearls 
between his fingers, poor Annette was 
torn with anxiety lest the necklace 
should fall short of the ransom desired. 

“Oh, Monsieur, is it not enough?” 
she cried, one trembling hand holding 
the other; “we have naught else, my 
mother is ill, — I came alone ” ; and the 
tears so bravely held back now fell in 
showers. 

The Intendant had no idea of giving 
up the necklace, yet was not wholly 
cruel ; so, striking on a bell, he called 
to the orderly who answered it, — 

“ Bring Valvier hither.” 

The sound of the words caused 
218 


THE PEAEL NECKLACE 


Annette to wipe her eyes, and in a 
moment, with a little scream of joy, 
she rushed into the arms of her father, 
whose wonder at her presence froze 
the words on his lips. 

“ Monsieur Valvier,” said the Intend- 
ant, ‘‘you are free. The ransom pro- 
vided by your daughter is sufficient. 
But you must give me your parole that 
you will never again bear arms against 
the Spanish flag, and that you will 
accept such regulations as Spain deems 
best for her colonies. 

“I give my parole,’^ answered Mon- 
sieur Valvier; “but, Annette, ransom 
— what had you, poor child? 

Annette’s face was wreathed in 
smiles as she whispered in his ear, 
“The pearl necklace, dearest father.” 


219 



Dicey Langston 

1787 


HERE WAS A 
pleasant mellow glow 
in the great low-ceiled 
kitchen, and the ab- 
solute quiet was un- 
broken save for an occasional crackling 
of the sticks which made a bright fire 
on the hearth. Yet, if the room was 
still, it was but because Dicey chose it 
so, and as she stood beside the huge 
wheel which a few moments before 
had been whirling merrily, she looked 
with thoughtful eyes at the fire. 

Now, to tell the truth. Dicey did not 
like to be alone, nor was it usual for 

her to be silent. The every-day Dicey 
220 



DICEY LANGSTON 


was singing if she was not talking, or 
spinning if she was not busy about 
the house, or flying here and there on 
errands for her father, or hunting up 
the brothers to do this or that, — to play 
or ride, or come to meals or something, 
— for Dicey was quite a little queen, as 
a girl with five big brothers has a right 
to be. 

A father and five big brothers, but 
no mother, poor little girl ! and she had 
grown to be sixteen years old, the pet 
of her brothers and the darling of her 
father’s heart, and, as you may guess, 
somewhat spoiled and self-willed. Yet 
I would not have you think for a mo- 
ment that she was selfish, for she was 
not so ; but she had grown to depend 
very much on herself, and to decide 
for herself many questions which other 
girls who had mothers to turn to would 
have left to them. 


221 


DEEDS OF DARING 


Dicey’s father was no longer a young 
man. Indeed,. he was almost past mid- 
dle life when, ten years before, he had 
left his home near Charleston, shattered 
in spirit by the death of his wife, and 
gone to the “Up Country,” as the 
northern part of the State of South 
Carolina was called, and started life 
anew. Dicey hardly remembered the 
old home at all. Her thoughts and 
her affections were all centred about 
the comfortable home in whose kitchen 
she now stood, and over whose comfort 
she reigned. 

She stood for many minutes as we 
saw her first, quite motionless, and 
then, as the evening air brought to 
her ear a sound so slight that you or 
I might not have noticed it, she ran 
to the window and looked out. 

The house stood in the centre of a 

clearing on the top of a gentle ridge, 
222 


DICEY LANGSTON 


and flowing out on either hand were 
dales and hills still covered with the 
forests through which the hunters and 
cow-drivers had wandered years before. 
Through this country the Catawbas and 
the Cherokees roamed, and but a short 
distance from the little settlement of 
which Solomon Langston^ s house was 
a part, lay that well-known Indian trail 
called the “ Cherokee Path,^^ which led 
from the Cherokee country on the west 
to the lands of the Catawbas on the 
east. 

On the flat lands below the hills 
stretched wide plains destitute of trees 
and rich in fine grass and gay with 
flowers. Here roamed the buffalo, elk, 
and deer. Here also were wild horses 
in many a herd, and it was from one 
of these wandering bands of horses 
that Dicey^s own little pony had been 
captured by brother Tom, before he 

223 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


married and went to live at ‘‘Elder 
Settlement across the Tyger Kiver, a 
deep and boisterous stream, between 
which and the Enoree lay the planta- 
tion where Dicey’s father had made 
his home. 

All this time she has been standing 
at the window, looking out over a land- 
scape which lay clear and white before 
her in the moonlight. The slight sound 
which had caught her ear was getting 
louder every moment, and at last two 
figures came into view, her father and 
one of her brothers, who had ridden 
early that morning to the settlement 
“Ninety-six” to hear the latest tidings 
about the War, and to gain some news 
regarding the revolutionary movement 
which hitherto had been largely confined 
to the southern portion of the State. 

For Dicey it had been a long and 
weary day. Her father’s last words 

224 


DICEY LANGSTON 


were: “Letnooneknow where we have 
ridden, Dicey, for in such days as these 
it is best to keep one’s own counsel, 
and you know, little daughter, that 
most of our neighbours belong to the 
King’s party.” 

And Dicey had remembered, even 
though Eliza Grordon had come over 
that afternoon with her sewing, and 
the two girls had worked on their new 
kerchiefs, fagoting and stitching and 
edging them with some Mignonette 
lace which Eliza’s mother had brought 
from Charleston when last she went to 
town. Such silence was hard enough 
for Dicey, who was used to tell what- 
ever thoughts came into her mind, par- 
ticularly to Eliza, who was her very 
“dearest friend.” 

When Mr. Langston had dismounted, 
and Dicey had taken one look into his 
face, she cried out, — 

15 225 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


“ Oh, father, is the news bad! I 
can see by your face it is none of the 
best. Is that cruel King over seas 
never going to stop his taxing? Shall 
I throw out the tea? ” 

“S’hush, Dicey, my girl. Remem- 
ber what I told you this morning. 
There are none others about us who 
think as we do, and it behoves us to 
be careful both in what we say and 
do.’^ 

As he spoke, he drew Dicey into the 
house, and Henry followed, the horses 
having been taken to the stables by 
one of the slaves, who, like Dicey, had 
heard the sound of the riders and come 
forward to meet them. Once within 
doors Dicey forgot for a moment her 
eagerness for news, and ran forward 
to stir up the fire which had fallen 
low while she mused, and to light 

the candle which hung from its iron 
226 


DICEY LANGSTON 


bracket on the back of her father’s 
chair. She set the kettle on the arm 
of the crane to boil, and put close at 
her father’s elbow his long clay pipe 
and box of tobacco, then brought out 
a tray with glasses and a generous 
bowl, into which she put spices and 
lemon, together with sugar and a meas- 
ure of wine which she poured from a 
jug which was fashioned in the form 
of a fat old man with a very red face 
and a blue coat. 

Kneeling on the hearth, she watched 
to see the steam come from the kettle’s 
nose, and as it seemed o’er long to her 
impatient spirit, she cast another billet 
of wood upon the dancing flames. 

‘‘Come, come, little daughter,” her 
father said, “ Henry and I have ridden 
far, and your impatience does but de- 
lay matters. In truth, I am so weary 

and chilled that I am thirsting for the 
227 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


spiced wine, which your treatment of 
the fire does but delay.” 

Now Dicey seized the poker and 
hastily endeavoured to make up for her 
error in putting on the new log, the 
only effect of her efforts being to make 
Henry laugh and take the poker from 
her hand, while he said, — 

“ Keep the little patriot quiet, father, 
since, if a watched pot never boils, this 
one is like to stay ever simmering.” 

Mr. Langston held Dicey’s hand, and 
all fixed their eyes on the kettle, and 
as the first slender trickle of steam 
came from its nose. Dicey caught it 
from the iron arm, and soon had two 
fragrant glasses of hot wine ready for 
the travellers. 

‘‘ Now, father,” she said, as she seated 
herself at his knee, — now, father, the 
news! ” 

‘‘’Tis true. Dicey, that at Gowan’s 
228 


DICEY LANGSTON 


Fort many of our people have been 
horribly murdered/’ 

‘‘Oh, father, not by Indians,” cried 
the girl, who well knew what this 
would mean. 

“ By worse than Indians,” answered 
Mr. Langston, — “ by white men painted 
as Indians, who were even more cruel 
than the savages, if that can be.” 

Dicey sprang to her feet and turned 
to her brother. 

“Do you know if ‘Bloody Bates’ 
had anything to do with this, Henry?” 

“Yes, he was the leader, and it is 
said that he boasted that his next raid 
should be in the country of the Eno- 
ree, where he said ‘ dwelt so many fat 
Whigs.’ ” 

“Just let him come this way,” cried 
Dicey, “ and he will find that the fat 
Whigs are ready for him.” 

Even though the case was grave 
229 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


enough, Henry and his father could 
not forbear a smile at the thought of 
Dicey, little Dicey, setting up as a 
match for the cruel bully who had 
made himself such a terror to the 
country-side by his midnight maraud- 
ings and treacherous killings that he 
had come to bear the name of Bloody 
Bates.’ ^ 

But Dicey, even though she was a girl, 
had a secret, and, what was stranger 
yet, she kept it, but in her brave little 
heart she resolved that if it were pos- 
sible she would make it serve her 
friends. 

So the next day she went forth in 
the afternoon carrying her work with 
her. Henry, who saw her start, little 
dreaming of the plans in that curly 
head, called out in a loud, cheerful 
voice, — 

I wager I know what is in that bag, 

230 


DICEY LANGSTON 


Dicey. A new frock for dolly, made in 
the latest mode. But, Dicey, see that 
it be not of red, since our enemies are 
far too partial to that colour to suit me.^^ 

‘^No such foolishness as you think, 
brother! I am to finish my kerchief 
which Eliza and I have been sewing 
on these three or four days. Maybe it 
will be all done when I come home.’' 

Dicey hurried on, almost afraid that 
she would let out the secret if Henry 
talked much longer about dolls. Dolls, 
indeed! why, she hadn’t looked at one 
for years ! 

Eliza saw her coming and ran to 
meet her. 

''Come within doors,” said Eliza, 
when their greetings were over, draw- 
ing Dicey with her. But this did not 
suit our little patriot’s plans at all, and 
holding back, she said, — 

"Let’s go and sit in the tree-seat, 

231 


DEEDS 6F DAEING 


Eliza. ’T is so pleasant out of doors 
to-day, and then you know we can talk 
over things there.’ ^ 

“ Gro you there and I will come when 
I get my reticule,” answered Eliza, who, 
like Dicey, was glad to escape from the 
keen eyes of mother and elder sister, 
neither of whom had much sympathy 
for over-long stitches or puckered work. 

Dicey did as she was bid, and climbed 
into the tree-seat where for years the 
children had been used to play, and, 
now that they had grown older, to 
which retreat they took their sewing 
or a book, though these latter came 
to hand rarely enough, the Bible and 
some books of devotion being thought 
quite enough reading for young people 
in those days. 

When both girls were comfortably 
seated and thimbles and needles were 
ready, Dicey fetched a great sigh. 

232 


DICEY LANGSTON 


“What is the matter with you, Dicey? 
Have you aught ailing you? ’’ 

“No,’^ said Dicey, “nothing very 
much. I was wondering if, when this 
horrible war was ended, you and I 
should ever go to some great city 
like Charleston or Fredericksburg, as 
did your sister Miriam. Think of it, 
Eliza, to go to some great town where 
there are many houses and carriages, 
and a play-house, and, best of all, 
balls! 

At this magic word Dicey tossed into 
the air the little kerchief, and, ere it 
fell, was on the ground holding the 
skirts of her calico frock, bowing and 
smiling to an imaginary partner, now 
toeing this way and that, as if she were 
going through the dance, though, to 
tell the truth, the little minx had never 
seen anything of the kind, but had 
got her information from Eliza’s sister 

233 


DEEDS OE DAEING 


Miriam. All of Miriam’s knowledge 
had been acquired in safer and hap- 
pier days, when she had made a visit 
to Fredericksburg, and astonished the 
young girls on her return with marvel- 
lous tales of what she had seen and 
heard, and the gaieties she had taken 
part in. Dicey and Eliza had often 
practised in secret, and though their 
steps would not have passed muster in 
a drawing-room, they had furnished 
them with pleasure for many an hour. 

Oh, Dicey, come up again! If 
mother sees you, she would make us 
come right away into the house; you 
know that she thinks that such things 
as dancing but waste the time of 
young maids like you and me.” 

Thus urged. Dicey with a sigh took 
up the sewing again, and sat once 
more beside Eliza in the tree. But 
her thoughts were flying all about, and 

234 


DICEY LANGSTON 


Eliza spoke twice ere Dicey noticed 
what she said. 

When father comes home to-night, 
he brings with him Colonel Williams.’’ 

The remark seemed simple enough, 
but a sudden light flooded Dicey’s 
mind. 

“ Coming home,” echoed she; “ why, 
you told me a day or two since that he 
would not be home till after harvest.” 

“Yes, but things have come about 
differently,” answered Eliza, with an 
important air. “My father has been 
in a great battle, and he is coming with 
Colonel Williams to stay for a day or 
two till Captain Bates gets here too.” 

“Captain Bates! Do you mean 
' Bloody Bates’? ” asked Dicey, pale 
with horror. 

“ My father says that is but a Whig 
name for him, and that he has done 
good service to the King in subduing 

235 


DEEDS OF DABING 


pestilent Whigs/' answered Eliza, bri- 
dling, and secretly pleased at the easy 
way the long words tripped from her 
tongue. 

“ That awful, cruel man coming 
here!’^ and Dicey half looked round to 
see if the mere speaking of his name 
had not brought upon the scene one of 
the most cruel bandits who under the 
name of scout had wrought endless 
cruelties. In a moment the impor- 
tance of the information had shot into 
her mind ! If she could find out some- 
thing more ! Sure, whatever Eliza 
knew were easy enough to learn also. 

‘‘ Comes he here to rest too, and at 
your house, Eliza ? ’’ 

If Eliza had given a thought to the 
low voice and shaking hands of her 
friend, she might have paused ere she 
told news which was of the greatest 
importance to such Whig families as 

236 


DICEY LANGSTON 


lived in the neighbourhood, and more 
particularly to those who dwelt in the 
Elder Settlement on the other side 
of the river, and were entirely unpro- 
tected. Among them was Dicey’s eld- 
est brother with his young wife and 
little family. 

“Comes he here to rest too ? and 
Eliza, proud of her information, and 
entirely forgetting that she had been 
told to impart it to no one, answered 
briskly, — 

“ No, but he stops here to meet some 
of the soldiers who go with him, and 
only think, ^tis at our house that they 
will paint themselves just like the 
Cherokees!^^ At the mere thought 
Eliza clapped her hands. “ Think how 
comical they will look,'' she went on, 
while every moment Dicey felt herself 
getting colder and colder with fear. 
“And sister Miriam has done naught 


237 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


but scurry about and turn things topsy- 
turvy. It^s Captain Bates this and 
Captain Bates that, till one feels ruffed 
all the wrong way. You know I told 
you that he was coming here one day, 
and you laughed and said he dare not ! 

Yes, Dicey remembered. This was 
the secret she had withheld, thinking 
that, like enough, it was but some of 
Miriam’s boasting that this savage man 
should seek her at her home. It was 
true, however, and like to be soon. 
How was she. Dicey, to warn those 
who were so unprotected? 

Thinking more deeply than ever she 
had thought before, Eliza babbled on, 
her silent companion taking no note 
of what she said. 

‘‘Well, Dicey, if you cannot listen 
to what I say, and not even answer 
me, I shall go into the house. Besides, 
my kerchief is all done, and mother 

238 


DICEY LANGSTON 


told me to bring it to her when the 
stitches were all set. How does it 
become me ? ” 

As she spoke, Eliza threw it about 
her round white throat, and tossed her 
head, the exact copy of sister Miriam. 

But Dicey was too absorbed to notice 
her companion's small frivolities. Her 
thoughts were solely on how to get 
word to her brother of the impending 
arrival of “ Bloody Bates in the neigh- 
bourhood. Fears for the safety of her 
own home were not wanting, since 
Henry, the only brother left at the 
old homestead, was but waiting the 
summons to go and join the command 
of Colonel Hugh Middleton. 

As Dicey walked slowly home along 
the bridle path which served for a road 
in that sparsely settled region, her 
mind had not thought of any plan by 
which her message was to be sent to 
239 


DEEDS OF DARING 


her brother and his friends. Yet over 
and over the words formed themselves 
in her brain, They must be told, they 
must be told.’^ 

Her father was feeble, and these 
years of anxiety and.of hard work since 
his sons had been called away from 
home to bear their share of hardships 
in the War to which there seemed no 
end, had enfeebled him still more. 
From him the news must be kept 
at any risk. Perhaps brother Henry 
would go ; but while this thought 
passed through her mind, she saw 
him coming through the wood on his 
horse. 

“ I have ridden this way to tell you 
good-bye, little sister. Even now word 
was brought that I must join my com- 
pany. Come hither ’ ’ ; and as Dicey 
X’an to his side he bent down, saying, 
‘^Set thy foot on my stirrup, I have 

240 


DICEY LANGSTON 


that to say which must not be spoken 
aloud.” 

As Dicey did as he bade her, and 
stood poised on his stirrup leather, 
holding tightly to his hand, he whis- 
pered in her ear, — 

‘‘ Be brave, little sister, and take the 
best care you can of father. He is ill 
and weak, and it vexes me sorely to 
leave such a child as you with no one 
stronger to protect you. Yet go I 
must, and I trust that before long 
Thomas may come for you and my 
father, or that Batty will return.” 

As Dicey looked into her brother’s 
troubled face, the thought that he must 
not be told rushed upon her. Gro he 
must, and they must take such care 
of themselves as they could. So she 
leaned forward, and said as cheerfully 
as possible, — 

“ Never fear for us, brother. There 

16 241 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


is no danger for father and me, for 
sure none would attack an old man 
and a young maid. See, I am not in 
the least afraid.^’ 

could leave you with a better 
heart if I thought that were the truth, 
yet even as we have spoken thy cheeks 
have grown as white as milk, and see, 
your hand trembles like a leaf in the 
wind ! 

Dicey pulled away that telltale mem- 
ber and jumped down from the horse. 

“ When the time comes, I ^11 prove as 
good a soldier as any of the Langston 
boys, rest you assured of that,’^ she 
cried. 

“ Farewell, then, brother Dicey” ; and 
Henry tried to cheer her by making her 
smile. Then, with his own face set in 
a look far too grave for one so young, 
he rode down the path in the flicker- 
ing light, little dreaming of the desper- 

242 


DICEY LANGSTON 


ate resolution which was forming in the 
mind of his sister. As she got the sup- 
per ready, and talked brightly as was 
her wont with her father, she had de- 
cided that she must be the one to take 
the news across to brother Tom at the 
Elder Settlement ; and oh dear, oh 
dear, she must go that very night, for 
who could tell, perhaps “ Bloody Bates” 
would stop there on his way, for she 
knew not which direction he was com- 
ing from. Yet for her father’s sake she 
was as much like her own cheerful self 
as she could be, and she forced herself 
to eat, as the way would be long and 
difficult. Twice she almost gave way to 
tears in the safe shelter of the pantry; 
yet do not blame my little Dicey, for 
though she felt fear, she never once 
thought of giving up her mission. 

When her duties for the night were 

all done, and the hot coals in the fire- 
243 


DEEDS OP DABING 


place carefully covered so that a few 
chips of light wood would set them 
blazing in the morning, Dicey sat down 
and tried to think out how she should 
manage. Her father was sleeping in 
his great chair by the fireplace, and he 
looked so worn and old that she re- 
solved to take on her own slender 
shoulders the whole responsibility. 

Perhaps it was her steadfast gaze, 
or perhaps it was his thoughts, which 
wakened Mr. Langston with a start, 
caused him to look quickly round and 
ask, — 

“ Where is Henry ? ’’ 

“ Why, father dear, Henry rode forth 
this afternoon to join Colonel Middle- 
ton. You have been napping, I think. 

^‘True, Dicey, I did but dream. is 
late enough for an old man like me, so 
light the candle, and I ’ll to bed.” 

As she handed the rude candlestick 


DICEY LANGSTON 


to him, Dicey threw her arms about his 
neck and swallowed hard to keep the 
tears that were so close to the surface 
from welling over. 

‘‘ Why, child, what ails thee I One 
would think that I was to start on a 
journey too, whereas all I can do is 
to bide at home^’; and Mr. Langston 
heaved a deep sigh as he said it. 

Brother Henry bid me take care of 
you, and I mean to, dearest father. 
Since you have sent five sons to this 
cruel war, it seems as if it might be 
that you and I were left at peace.’’ 

“ Yes, yes, daughter. I do but pray 
that I may live to see all my brave 
boys come home to me once more.” 
With bowed head Mr. Langston took 
his way to the small chamber opening 
off the living-room. 

“Now,” thought Dicey, “must I plan 
and act. First must I write a few lines 

245 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


to father, lest he think that I too have 
followed brother Henry/^ 

She hunted about for a fragment of 
paper, — a thing not too common in a 
frontier farmhouse, — then she dashed 
some water into the dried-up ink-horn, 
and mended a pen as well as she could. 

Will you think any the less of her 
if I tell you that poor Dicey was a 
wretched penman? Her days at school 
had been very few, since the nearest 
one was at Ninety-six, and her father 
could ill spare his little housekeeper. 
Yet he had taught her a bit, and as 
she sat and wrote by the flaring rush- 
light, I am afraid that her tongue was 
put through as much action as her 
pen. Poor Dicey ! the little billet which 
caused her so much labour was intended 
to allay her father^ s anxiety as well as 
to let him know where she had gone. 
Of the object of her mission there was 

246 


DICEY LANGSTON 


never a word. That she would tell 
him on her return. The little scrawl 
was set on the table with one end be- 
neath the candlestick, where he would 
be sure to see it in the morning. 

“ Dear Father,” it began. “ I go to 
carry a message to brother Tom. I 
leave early in the morning, and will 
return as soon as might be. There is 
naught to fear for me. Your loving 
Dicey.” 

‘‘ 'Tis better,’’ she mused, half aloud, 
“ to say ‘ morning ’ than to have him 
think that I was forced to go at night, 
lest I fall into the hands of some of 
these bandits on their way here. But 
I must not think of that, for I must 
be off as soon as I can get ready, and 
the faster I work the less afraid I am.” 

She hurriedly put some food in a 
packet, and then crept up the stairs to 
her own tiny room under the eaves. 

247 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


You would hardly have known her 
when she came softly down a few 
moments later. Her hair was bound 
and knotted close to her head, for well 
she knew how the bushes and trees 
would catch the flowing curls. Her 
stuff gown was kilted high and held 
securely in place, while on her feet she 
had drawn a pair of boots which were 
her brother Batty ^s, and, though large, 
they were stout and strong and came 
nigh to her knees. A heavy shawl 
covered her shoulders and was tied be- 
hind, and into the front of it she thrust 
the packet of food. 

As she went softly out of the door, 
she gave a last look toward her father's 
room and then hastened on, anxious to 
give her warning and then hurry home. 
Dicey knew the way well, having been 
to visit her brother a number of times. 
But in her haste and excitement she 

248 


DICEY LANGSTON 


had not thought that a path by day 
with company is a very different thing 
from the same path by night and 
alone. 

Yet this did not daunt her, even 
though there were strange noises in 
the forest and elfin fingers seemed to 
reach out from the bushes and pluck 
at her as she tried to hurry on. Each 
twig which snapped as she trod on it 
brought her heart uncomfortably to 
her mouth, in a way she did not like 
at all. The woods were bad enough, 
but infinitely worse were the marshes 
where there was not even a foot-log, 
much less a bridge to take her over 
the worst places, and but for Batty^s 
boots she would have suffered cruelly 
from roots and stones. 

Still she pressed bravely on. She 
gripped her hands and kept repeating, 
“ Every step takes me nearer, every 
249 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


step takes me nearer/^ till it made 
itself into a kind of tune. She dared 
not think that the worst was yet to 
come, and that the Tyger Eiver with 
its brawling current had still to be 
crossed. When at last she heard a 
faint murmuring, it seemed to give 
her new strength, and she turned in 
that direction. 

Just as the first gleams of dawn 
lighted the sky, she stood on the 
muddy banks of the river. She looked 
about her in the dim light and thought 
that she recognised the place as the 
ford where they usually crossed. So, 
quite exhausted, she threw herself upon 
the ground, saying to herself, I will 
rest a few moments and take a bite of 
pone, for well I know that the water 
of the Tyger is deadly cold and muddy 
too.’’ 

As she thought, she acted, and in a 

250 


DICEY LANGSTON 


brief time rose to her feet, not with 
that springy lightness which was cus- 
tomary with her, but slowly and with 
effort. The long hard walk, the chaf- 
ing of the boots which were too large 
for her, all made her feel stiff and 
lame, and as she waded into the water, 
it took all her courage to keep from 
screaming out. 

In she went, a step at a time, thrust- 
ing one foot before the other to feel 
her way in the rushing water, and be- 
wildered by the grey light and the 
heavy fog which lay above the water 
and hid the other shore. It seemed 
to her that the water was getting very 
deep, surely much deeper than when 
she went through it before, though on 
that occasion she was mounted safely 
on the back of her little pony. 

‘‘ Oh, dear Molly, if only you were 
here with me now instead of safe at 

251 


DEEDS OF DABING 


home in your stall’’; and one or two 
tears rolled over Dicey’s cheeks to be 
immediately swallowed up in the swirl- 
ing waters which every moment grew 
deeper around her. 

She went forward, step by step, never 
once thinking of turning back; and 
now the wavelets reached her waist, 
and now they were breast high and so 
heavy that they threatened to draw 
her from her feet. Completely be- 
wildered, not quite sure of her course 
since the opposite bank could not be 
seen through the low-lying fog. Dicey 
lost her track and wandered up stream 
instead of across. She noticed that 
the water, now just below her armpits, 
kept at the same height, and fearing 
that every moment it would grow deep 
enough to engulf her, she stopped a 
moment in her difficult course and 
looked about her. 


252 


DICEY LANGSTON 


What was that which she could 
dimly discern apparently advancing 
towards her ? To her mind, already 
overwrought, it seemed “ Bloody Bates’’ 
himself, as indeed it might have been, 
and with a shriek which she vainly 
tried to smother, she turned abruptly 
to the left and plunged with all the 
speed she could muster through the 
water. 

Oh, joyful thought ! The black 
stream was getting lower, it was but 
breast-high now, and as she leaped 
and plunged along, with every move- 
ment it receded, till at last she stum- 
bled on the bank, and lay there sob- 
bing with fright and exhaustion. She 
heard a soft swish in the river, and 
hastily raised her head to find that 
what had so terrified her was a huge 
buck, which was now half swimming 
and half wading to shore himself. 

253 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


Cold and wet, half dead with fright 
and fatigue, Dicey, at sight of her 
supposed enemy, laid her head on her 
arms and had a good cry. 

Only a deer,” she sobbed, and then 
began to laugh, and with the laugh, 
feeling better, she scrambled to her 
feet, saying to herself, “ T is but two 
miles to brother Tom’s and then I 
am safe.” 

The way was easier now, for it was 
a travelled path, made by Indians, it 
is true, and their cruel allies the Brit- 
ish, but still it was daylight, and away 
from the river the air was clear and 
fresh, — too fresh for comfort to the 
shivering girl, who ran and stumbled 
in her haste to get her message de- 
livered. The two miles dragged them- 
selves away at last, and through the 
trees Dicey saw the group of rude 

houses which made the Elder Settle- 
254. 


DICEY LANGSTON 


ment, and ah ! there was brother Tom 
already out of doors about his work. 

As soon as Dicey saw him, she 
shouted, and when he looked up, he 
seized his gun, for a weapon lay e^er 
within reach in those days. Little 
wonder was it that he did not recog- 
nise the small figure which ran towards 
him waving its arms and shouting 
words which he did but half catch. 
At the sound of the commotion Elie, 
his wife, came to the door, and at the 
first glance cried out, — 

‘‘Why, Tom, ^tis Dicey!’’ and ran 
out to meet her, fearful of bad tidings, 
since it was easy to see that the girl 
was almost at the limit of her strength. 
As soon as Tom realised who it was, 
he ran forward and caught her in his 
arms, and hurried into the house, his 
lips forming themselves into the one 
word, “ Father?” 


255 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


Dicey shook her head, and when 
Tom set her down on the stone hearth, 
she slipped down into a little wet heap 
with a pale face and eager eyes. 

Oh, brother Tom,’^ she began, as 
soon as she caught her breath. 

“Stay,” said her brother, “is aught 
wrong with my father or brothers ? 

“ No,” said Dicey, “ I came — ” 

“ Then thy news will wait till thou 
art dry and warm, else we are like 
to have a dead Dicey instead of a liv- 
ing one. Elie, take and give her dry 
clothes, and I will make for her a 
mug of hot cider which will warm 
her through and through. From her 
clothes, the Tyger seems at flood these 
days.” 

When Dicey, warm and dry once 
more, poured out her tale of warning, 
Tom hurried away to call the men 
of the settlement together. As the 

256 


DICEY LANGSTON 


small handful of grave settlers came 
and heard the news, Dicey felt in 
their few words of thanks ample pay- 
ment for what she had undertaken in 
their behalf. Nor did they hesitate in 
their course. Packing together what 
possessions were most valued, and driv- 
ing before them the few cattle which 
remained, they and their families that 
very afternoon crossed the Tyger at 
the ford which poor Dicey had missed, 
and sought the protection of the fort 
at Ninety-six. The next day Dicey 
was left at her own home and in the 
arms of her anxious father. 

She told her tale to him, sitting by 
his side and holding his hand, for he 
could hardly realise that his little girl, 
his Dicey, had been through an experi- 
ence at which even a man might have 
hesitated. 

“ My child,'' said he, “ it seems but 

17 257 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


yesterday that I held you in my arms, 
and here you are a woman grown ere I 
thought it.” 

Fondly stroking her soft hair, he 
looked into the fire and spoke half to 
himself, — 

’T is like her mother; but a child to 
look on, yet with a heart of steel.” 

“Why, father, you think too much 
of it; ’twas not so much after all. At 
least it seems so now that once more I 
am safe at home with you, though truly 
in the doing I was much af eared.” 
Looking round as she spoke, she caught 
sight of the noon-mark on the window, 
and, jumping up, exclaimed, — 

“ Why, father, here have we sat gos- 
siping till it is nearly midday and not 
a thing made ready for dinner ! Shame 
on me for a bad housekeeper ! ” and with 
that she bustled away to prepare the 
simple meal which was the daily fare 

258 


DICEY LANGSTON 


of many a family living far from the 
towns. A pudding made of the white 
corn meal did not take long to stir to- 
gether, and in a pot was soon stewing 
some bits of venison from the last deer 
which Henry had shot, part of which 
had been salted down for their winter 
supply. A portion of the pudding with 
a pinch of salt added, and baked on a 
hot iron shovel with a long handle, 
served instead of bread, and what was 
left would answer for their supper, with 
some of the cheese in the making of 
which Dicey was well skilled. There 
was always plenty of milk from their 
small herd of cattle. 

After all had been settled for the 
afternoon, the trenchers washed and 
the pewter cups polished and set on 
their shelves. Dicey drew out her wheel 
and set herself at her spinning. The 

low whir and the comfortable ditty 
259 


DEEDS OF DABING 


which Dicey hummed hardly above her 
breath set her father to dozing in his 
chair, and neither of the occupants of 
the kitchen was prepared for the crash- 
ing knock which came on the heavy 
door. 

Before Dicey could reach it to set it 
open, a harsh voice cried out, — 

“If you open not that door and 
quickly, we 11 smoke out all of you! 

Dicey drew back, looking at her 
father for counsel. 

“ Draw the bolt, child,’ ’ he said ; “ we 
have no strength to withstand them. 
Our very weakness must be our pro- 
tection.” 

Dicey pulled back the great oaken bar 
which served as a lock, and in pushed 
half a dozen men heavily armed, none 
of whom she had ever seen before. 

“ So the Whig cub has gone, has he? ” 

asked the one who seemed the leader, 
260 



‘^‘^COWARD, SHOOT NOW, IF YOU DARE ! ” Pa^re 261 








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DICEY LANGSTON 


a tall man dressed in buckskin trousers 
of Indian make, over which the red 
coat of the British officer seemed odd 
enough. 

‘‘It is true that my son has gone 
forth to serve his country, said Mr. 
Langston, in a quiet voice. 

At the reply, which seemed to enrage 
the ruffian, he strode a step forward, 
cocking his pistol as he advanced. 

“141 show him how to serve his 
country when I find him, and as for 
you, old man, long enough have you 
hampered the King’s service.” 

He pointed the weapon at Mr. Lang- 
ston, when with a cry Dicey threw 
her arms about her father’s neck, and, 
shielding him with her body, called 
out over her shoulder, — 

“ Coward, shoot now if you dare ! ” 
Bloody Bates, for indeed it was he, 

raised his pistol once more, and with a 
261 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


wicked scowl was preparing to fire, 
when one of the men who had stood 
silently by till now knocked up the 
weapon, saying, — 

“As long as the cub we came for 
has fled, let us on, Bates. We have 
no war with dotards and children.’^ 
The others murmured surly assent, and 
bidding Dicey and her father beware 
how they harboured traitors, the whole 
party withdrew. 

It took Dicey scarce a moment to fly 
to the door and bar it, and then hurry 
back to her father, who was lying back 
in his chair, pale with the excitement 
and the peril which they had under- 
gone, and only too thankful that one 
among the company had respected his 
grey hairs and Dicey’s youth. 

For many a day they lived in hourly 
fear of their lives, even after Bloody 

Bates had taken himself off on his raids 
262 


DICEY LANGSTON 


and the neighbourhood was compara- 
tively peaceful. 

Did Dicey undergo any more special 
perils, you ask? 

Yes ; once again she faced grave dan- 
ger, being met by a scouting party as 
she was coming from a trip to the 
nearest town. They questioned her as 
to the whereabouts of her brothers and 
other Whigs in the vicinity, but she 
refused to tell what she knew. The 
leader threatened to shoot her, but she 
faced him bravely, crying, — 

“Well, here am I; shoot! opening 
her neckerchief at the same time. He 
was ashamed apparently, for the band 
rode on, leaving her to make her way 
home. 

She lived to see all her brothers but 
one return from their duties in the 
army, and by her loving care and devo- 
tion made her father^s life a happy one. 

263 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


She was only a little Southern girl 
living in a lonely spot, and long since 
dead; but her courageous acts live on 
and shine, as do all “ good deeds in a 
naughty world/^ 


264 



The Maid of Zaragoza 

1808 

HE NOTES OF A 



hymn swept up the 
street, — a hymn so 
sung that it seemed a 
call to battle rather 


than a sacred song. It rose, it fell, it 
stirred the blood, the plaintive tones 
of the women’s voices rising high above 
the fuller notes of the men, while soar- 
ing above all the others were the shrill, 
sweet voices of the altar boys. 

On they came, with banners waving 
and with clouds of smoke rising from 
the swinging censers. But the music, 
strong as it rose on the morning air. 


265 


DEEDS OF DARING 


did not blot out the clang of the alarm 
bells which were constantly rung in 
every quarter of the city. Nor could 
it drown the boom, boom, boom of the 
bombardment which had been slowly 
wrecking the city for so long. 

Augustina kneeled on the balcony 
with her bent head on her hands, her 
heart swelling as she listened. 

Ah/’ said she to herself, if I were 
but a man! If I could but help to 
save the city. Yet here must I sit 
and do nothing better than weave 
lace, while our brave men are drop- 
ping before those cruel guns.” 

As the music grew fainter, she rose 
and stood watching the procession. 
At the head of the long narrow street 
in which she lived, towered the spires 
of the lovely old cathedral of the Vir- 
gin of the Pillar, and the procession 

which had just passed was of men and 
266 


THE MAID OF ZAEAGOZA 


women who sought to petition the 
Holy Mother for her aid in the des- 
perate war which was being waged 
against their city. 

Although the sun had been up some 
hours, the tall convents which were 
set among the houses made the street 
still dim, and as Augustina looked up 
towards the cathedral, the people in 
the procession seemed hardly larger 
than children moving slowly and sing- 
ing as they went. 

Every day in some part of the city 
was to be seen such a procession as 
had just passed, for although Napoleon 
and his soldiers had been besieging 
the town for forty days, never once 
did the people lose courage in their 
power to come out victorious from 
the struggle. 

Yes, to triumph at last, though hun- 
ger, sickness, and ill-trained soldiers 
267 


DEEDS OF DAEING 


were evils with which they had to 
struggle, as well as the enemy without 
their walls. 

As the last singer entered the cathe- 
dral, Augustina seemed to wake from 
a dream, and a look of anxiety came 
over her face as she looked up the 
street. Leaning as far forward over 
the balcony as she dared, she could 
see nothing but some figures of men 
wrapped in dull brown cloaks, the 
only spots of colour being the gay 
kerchiefs bound about their heads. 

“ Augustina ! From within the 
house came the call, prolonged and 
whining, as if the patience of the 
caller were nearly exhausted. 

“ Yes, dear mother, just one moment 
longer. 

Again she leaned out and peered up 
the street, but whoever or whatever 

she looked for did not come in sight 
268 


THE MAID OF ZARAGOZA 


With a sigh she drew back and entered 
the house. 

The street in which Augustina lived 
was no whit worse than most of the 
thoroughfares in the old city of Zara- 
goza. The houses covered with bal- 
conies looked at each other across 
streets so narrow that in some of them 
a horse and cart filled the space from 
side to side, and the cobble-stones 
were so rough and irregular that walk- 
ing was difficult. Yet Augustina had 
found the city fair enough to look 
upon before so many doors and win- 
dows were walled up on account of 
the bombardment, and before such 
numbers of the houses had been crum- 
bled by the cannon balls. 

Though her face was not as cheerful 
as was its wont when she turned to go 
in, she shook her shoulders as if to 
get rid of some disagreeable thought, 
269 


DEEDS OF DARING 


pushed back from her forehead the 
heavy black hair, and was able to show 
quite a presentable face to her mother 
when she reached her side. 

“Why did you stay so long when 
you knew that I waited for you? ’’ 
asked the invalid in a peevish tone. 

“ Did it seem long? Why, mother, 
’t was only five minutes after all; just 
look at the clock. After the proces- 
sion passed I only looked to see if 
Felipe came this way and if he had 
any news to tell.^' 

“ Felipe, Felipe, everything is Felipe, 
while I sit here day after day, and 
only get what is thrown to me, as one 
throws a bone to a dog.’’ 

“Ah, I see that the fever is bad 
again this morning, else you would 
never say a thing like that, mother 
dear. Now just look at me and say 
that again ! ” 


270 


THE MAID OF ZAEAGOZA 


Her mother turned to speak, but as 
she looked at the bright face, saw the 
love which filled the large dark eyes, 
passed her hand over the rosy cheeks, 
and felt the pressure of the strong 
young arms, she could not help but 
soften into a look of pleasure, and her 
words dwindled into — 

“Well, well, it did seem long, but 
you are a good child, Augustina, and I 
love you well, as you know. But what 
with the fever and this dreadful war 
and the sound of the cannon, I spoke 
sharper than I meant.” 

“ Dearest, let me give you the cup 
of chocolate and the bit of bread, for 
I ate my breakfast long ago, before 
you woke.” She did not tell her 
mother how scant that meal had 
been. 

“ I hardly know if I wish for it,” her 

mother was beginning; but Augustina 
271 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


was already in the next room, which 
served them as a kitchen, and soon 
hurried back bearing a small tray on 
which was the cup of chocolate and the 
bit of crusty bread which is the break- 
fast of every true Spaniard. Food was 
scant enough in more households than 
this. Augustina’s mother, a widow 
with barely enough to scrape along 
on, was aided in peaceful days by the 
sale of the lace which Augustina’s 
skilful fingers made. Everybody in 
Spain loves lace, and every woman 
wore it, having her whole mantilla of 
it if she could afford it, and trimmed 
with it if she could do no better. Her 
holiday skirt was fiounced with it, 
her pretty little aprons edged with it, 
her snowy chemisette trimmed with 
it, so that there was always a demand 
for what Augustina’s skilful fingers 
could make. 


272 


THE MAID OF ZAKAGOZA 


But now — what was the use of 
working at the pillow? 

The siege which had lasted so long 
showed no signs of being broken, and 
no one had any coins to spare on such 
slight things as lace, when famine was 
staring the city in the face, and all 
day long, if one but looked from the 
window, the wounded could be seen 
being carried into the convents, or any 
other place where they could be tended 
and safe from the cannon balls. 

‘‘Is the chocolate sweet enough, 
mother? ” asked Augustina anxiously. 
She had stirred into it the last spoon- 
ful of sugar which they had, and as the 
purse was running so low she hardly 
dared to buy any more. 

“Sweet enough; and, Augustina, 
when you go out to-day, go first of all to 
the cathedral and say an Ave for me. 
I had hoped before this to be able to go 

18 273 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


myself. Say, too, a prayer for our brave 
men who are holding the city against 
those wicked French.’’ 

“ I am going now to Our Lady of the 
Pillar, mother, and I will stop on the 
Prado and ask if, by any chance, there 
has been a call for lace. I have a fine 
piece ready ; the lilies in it seem fairly 
to grow, do they not, mother? ” 

Augustina held up with pride a long 
strip of snowy lace into which were 
wrought lilies and roses so lifelike that 
it was almost as if they blossomed. 

“ I wish that we could afford to keep 
that piece, Augustina. I have watched 
it grow under your fingers for so long 
that I shall miss it when it is no longer 
here.” 

“ I shall hate to sell it, mother ; yet 
the money for it would not come amiss, 
eh, dearest?” 

The widow sighed and glanced at the 

274 


THE MAID OF ZARAGOZA 


pillow as it lay on the table covered 
from dust, only the gay beads which 
tipped the bobbins being visible. 

Augustina bustled about, making the 
house ready for the day, drawing the 
shade across the window so that her 
mother\s siesta should not be disturbed 
in case she did not return immediately, 
and then she went into the kitchen. 
Here she packed into a small basket 
some little cakes and such simple food 
as their home afforded, and covered it 
with a napkin. Then, with her man- 
tilla drawn over her head, she went into 
her mother^s room and said, — 

Adios, mother, till I return. I may 
be late, so do not worry. Be sure 
that I will not forget your Ave at the 
cathedral.’’ 

Kissing her fondly, she went down 
the stone stairs which led to their 
rooms, treading softly so as not to 

275 


DEEDS OF DARING 


rouse any of the neighbours who might 
come out and ask whither she was 
going. 

She walked quickly up the quiet 
street, and, with a corner of her man- 
tilla drawn over her face, looked nei- 
ther to the right nor left. Few people 
were about, and every moment came 
the boom of the cannon, now a little 
louder and now less so, — as they were 
fired from the walls, or from the distant 
cannon of the enemy. 

She kept bravely on, for she had a 
purpose before her. She wished to 
make a prayer for herself as well as 
for her mother, and turned to the 
cathedral, whither were also others 
hurrying, bound on the same errand 
as herself. 

As the leather curtain of the door 
fell behind her, the dusky light of the 
great cathedral was pointed here and 

276 


THE MAID OF ZAEAGOZA 


there by hundreds of twinkling lights, 
and side by side on the pavement 
kneeled noble lady or ragged beggar, 
all intent on their devotions, whisper- 
ing prayers for the deliverance of their 
beloved city and for the safety of her 
defenders. The solemn tones of the 
organ and the voices of the chanting 
priests were the only sounds to be 
heard, save from time to time a sob 
from some mourner who prayed for 
the dead. 

As Augustina stood once more in 
the sunshine on the great steps of the 
church, she looked up and down the 
street, hardly able to realise that while 
the sky was so bright, such misery was 
in many homes, and such cruel fighting 
on the walls. 

“ On the walls Yes; that was the 
place whither she was bound! Felipe 

had not been to their home since the 
277 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


day before yesterday. Something must 
have happened to detain him, for as he 
left he had called back, — 

“Look for me to-morrow, Augus- 
tina”; and when Felipe said a thing 
he always kept his word ; no one knew 
that better than she. It had been so 
from the days when they were little 
children together. When Felipe said, 
“ I will do this,^^ or “ I will not do that,” 
it always fell out just as he said. So 
now she was going to see for herself 
what had happened to keep him away. 
A horrid idea rose before her mind of 
Felipe wounded, but she drove it away, 
and thought only of how young he was 
and strong, so proud of being chosen by 
his townsmen to serve on the walls, so 
delighted with his uniform. 

The mere thought of how she had 
seen him thus made her hurry all the 

faster; and she hoped he would like 
278 


THE MAID OF ZAKAGOZA 


the things which she had brought him 
to eat, for, poor boy, he had complained 
of being hungry the last time he came 
to them; and food was getting more 
scarce each day. 

She reached the walls at last, and at 
the gate near the great convent of 
Santa Engracia, where Felipe had a 
gun, she was stopped by a sentinel 
who asked her business there. 

“ I come to see Felipe,^’ she answered 
briefly. 

“A brother of thine, little one?” 
asked the soldier, as he noticed her 
basket, and tried to get a glimpse of 
her face through the mantilla. 

No, a friend,” was all she an- 
swered; for how could she tell this 
man that some day, when this war 
was over, she and Felipe were to be 
betrothed? 

“ Just a friend,” the man mimicked, 
279 


DEEDS OF DARING 


and then, seeing her bent head, he said 
more gently: Well, ’tis not allowed 
for friends to mount to the walls, but 
as it seems that you have something to 
eat, go you up. You will find Felipe 
at the gun at the second turn to the 
right.’’ 

Up the rude steps to the top of 
the walls, Augustina hurried, past one, 
two, three guns. At the fourth stood 
Felipe ! 

“Oh, Felipe ! ” she cried, “ where have 
you been these last two days I In 
truth I could wait no longer to know 
what had befallen you. See, here is 
a bit of meat, and all the bread that I 
could spare, for mother must not suffer, 
you know, else had I brought more.’' 

Felipe had just cleaned the gun for 
another charge, and as he stood beside 
it, he turned his weary and blackened 

face towards Augustina. 

280 


THE MAID OF ZAKAGOZA 


“I could not come/^ he whispered 
hoarsely. “I have served this gun 
day and night since I saw you last, 
save for a few hours at night when 
those dastardly French had to rest 
too.” 

“Poor Felipe!’^ murmured Augus- 
tina. “ Here is some wine; take it, for 
you look worn and tired ; and as she 
spoke, she gave him a glass of the 
sour wine which is so esteemed by 
the Spaniard, and in which Felipe 
moistened some bits of bread, stand- 
ing beside his gun all the while so 
as to be ready to load and fire as soon 
as he had finished. 

The tumult was appalling. Orders 
were being shouted out from either 
side, clouds of smoke obscured the 
walls as well as the broad and grassy 
vega where the French camp was es- 
tablished. The noise was deafening, 
281 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


and every few moments a ball, scream- 
ing as it went, flew over their heads, 
and burst somewhere in the city behind 
them, killing and destroying, and often 
leaving in its wake fiery embers which 
burst into flame. 

Augustina steadied herself by put- 
ting her hand on the gun, and as Felipe 
turned to it once more he shouted to 
her, — 

“ Hear the Signorina speak, Augus- 
tina; she is the bravest lady on the 
walls and he thrust into the gaping 
mouth of the gun a huge iron case 
which he took from a pile near at 
hand, and which held within it many 
small iron balls. 

‘^Now hear my lady’s voice! ” turn- 
ing towards Augustina with a look of 
triumph on his face. 

There was a deafening roar, a cloud 
of smoke, and even as it floated about 


THE MAID OF ZARAGOZA 


them out of its midst seemed to come 
a great thing that flew towards them, — 
a whirling, screaming thing that never 
wavered in its track ! Before she could 
realise what it was, there was a deafen- 
ing roar, Augustina was thrown on her 
face, and heard all about her a sound 
as of falling stones. She knew in a 
moment, as soon as the noise had 
died away, that she was not hurt. She 
slowly scrambled to her feet, and 
looked about for Felipe. 

Ah, he had been thrown down like 
herself ! 

Felipe! she called. 

Amid the tumult her voice seemed 
but a whisper. 

Felipe ! Still there was no answer, 
and as she looked again she saw that 
on his breast lay a large bit of some- 
thing that looked like a stone. She 
hurried to him and pushed it off, trying 

283 


DEEDS OF DABING 


to raise him as she did so ; but he fell 
back, and she threw herself on her 
knees, lifting his head in her arms, and 
saying softly, — 

‘^Felipe, dear one, where are you 
hurt? Answer me, I pray; H is I, Au- 
gustina, who calls you/^ 

But there was no answer. The iron 
fragment from the cannon ball had hit 
Felipe above the heart, and struck out 
in a moment the life of a brave soldier. 
Again and again Augustina called to 
him, stroking the curling black hair, 
and smoothing the hands all stained 
from his work. How long she sat 
there with Felipe’s head in her lap, she 
never knew. Slowly in her mind the 
idea grew that some one must take 
his place. No one must think that 
Felipe’s gun was silent because he had 
deserted ; the faith of his townsfolk in 
his courage must not be destroyed. 

284 


THE MAID OF ZAEAGOZA 


Besides, what was that she had 
heard? It was Felipe himself who had 
told her of the dreadful thing which 
happened every night on the walls. 
She could hardly bear to think of it, — 
but at dusk gibbets were set up, and 
on them were hung all deserters and 
cowards. 

Oh, if they should think that Felipe 
was a coward ! 

Somebody must take his place, but 
who — who was to do it? 

There were far too few men now, 
able to fill the places of danger on 
the walls. 

Then must even said Augustina 
to herself; and she laid poor Felipe 
down tenderly, and threw her mantilla 
over the quiet face. There was no 
time for tears. She had watched him 
as he loaded the gun, and now tried to 
do it herself. 


285 


DEEDS OF DARING 


“ Now may Our Lady of the Pillar 
help me!’’ and as she breathed the 
prayer, Augustina dragged the heavy 
case which held so many death-dealing 
balls to the mouth of the gun, lifted 
and pushed it into place. After firing 
the charge, she dropped on her knees, 
and with her hands covering her face 
waited through an awful moment! 

Suddenly there was a tearing, crash- 
ing sound, an explosion so loud that it 
took away her breath, and then Au- 
gustina knew that the gun of Felipe 
spoke as if he still stood at its side. 
A sob broke from her lips, but she 
crushed it down, and with one look at 
the still form beneath the mantilla, she 
rose to her feet and turned to the gun. 
Her slender hands had difficulty in man- 
aging the heavy cases, but she kept at 
it bravely, murmuring to herself, — 

“ For Felipe and for Spain !” 

286 


THE MAID OF ZAKAGOZA 


It was for her country, too, that 
Augustina worked and toiled; for to 
the tips of her toes she was of Aragon. 
Her father and his father before him 
had watched the Ebro as it flows 
through the city; they had loved the 
olive groves by which it was sur- 
rounded, and they had stood in the 
arcades and market-places, their sad 
eyes watching the slow decay of a 
city which had once been the home 
of kings. 

Cold and proud to the stranger, the 
Aragonese when aroused are fairly 
heroic in the way they fight for their 
country ; and in 1808, when Augustina 
manned the gun for the sake of her 
playmate and lover who was slain, the 
same spirit burned in her heart as had in 
those of her ancestors centuries before, 
when the Berbers came and conquered. 

The time crept along, but Augustina 
287 


DEEDS OF DAKING 


never faltered. Her clothes were torn 
with the unusual labour, and her hands, 
more used to the threads of flax and 
the smooth wooden bobbins, were cut 
and bleeding from the rough metal 
of the cannon. Her long black hair 
became loosened and hung like a veil 
down her back. She worked like 
one possessed of man-like strength. 
Hardly did she allow the great cannon 
to cool before she thrust the charge 
into it, and dragged another iron case 
to its mouth, so as to have it ready 
at the flrst moment. 

It seemed to her as if she had been 
the whole day at her post, when there 
hurried along an officer making his 
rounds to observe the condition of 
things on the walls. 

At sight of Augustina he stopped 
and looked at her with amazement. 

What are you doing here, my girl? ” 
288 



‘^‘^WIIAT ARE YOU DOING IIERE^ MY GIRL ? Page 289. 



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THE MAID OF ZARAGOZA 


he asked in no gentle tones, hardly able 
to credit what his eyes told him, and 
thinking that Augustina might per- 
haps be keeping watch over a sleeping 
soldier, and anxious to know the truth. 

‘‘I have but taken Felipe’s place. 
Signor Captain,” pointing with her 
hand to the figure lying on the stones 
beside the gun. 

“Does — ” The Captain paused in 
his question. Something in the still 
figure seemed to tell him that it was not 
the sleep of fatigue that held Felipe 
while this slender girl worked his gun. 

He stooped and lifted the end of 
the mantilla which covered the face. 
There was no need for further question. 
He rose and touched Augustina’s small 
stained hand. 

“Poor girl!” he said; “was he your 
brother?” 

“ No, signor ; he was Felipe. Since 

19 289 


DEEDS OF DABING 


we were children we had played to- 
gether. His father and mine were old 
comrades, and when Felipe was left 
alone on his father’s death, my mother 
told him to think that our home was 
his when he wanted it. But Felipe was 
brave, signor. He knew that we had 
little, and he worked hard for himself 
and me, too, since when we came of 
age we were to be married. Then came 
this war ; he was chosen to serve, and, 
as the signor sees, he served as long as 
life lasted. Now I serve for him.” 

“ Brave girl that you are ! I would 
that we had more men like you, and 
like poor Felipe here! Stay but a 
little longer and I will send some one 
to relieve you.” 

“No, signor; I will stay in place of 
Felipe, if but you will send word to my 
mother that I am safe and will see her 
to-night.” 


290 


THE MAID OF ZAKAGOZA 


“I can promise that, surely; and if 
your example does not shame those 
who lurk in safety behind the walls, I 
shall lose all faith in Aragon.” Saying 
which, the Captain passed on his way, 
saluting as he went, with bowed head 
and lifted hat, both the girl and the 
still figure under the mantilla. 

All through the long afternoon Au- 
gustina worked. No cannon on the 
walls spoke more often than hers. 
Faint and weary, she ate what remained 
of the food she had brought to Felipe, 
and would not allow herself to think 
of anything but the duty before her. 
Not a tear fell from her eyes, and she 
kept whispering to herself, — 

'‘I must make the Signorina speak!” 
and every time the cannon roared she 
looked down at Felipe and cried out, 
“Ah, Felipe, that was for you; she 
spoke for you!” 


291 


DEEDS OF DARING 


It was night before the promised 
relief arrived, — a soldier who looked 
hardly able to do the work, so pale 
was he. 

“Have you been ill?’’ asked Augus- 
tina, as she made ready to go. 

“ But two days from the hospital,” 
said he ; “ yet every one who can stand 
has need to fight if we wish to save 
Zaragoza and Our Lady of the Pillar.” 

“ If you can bear through the night, 
I will come again in the morning. If 
it were not for my mother, I would not 
leave here now.” 

“ Surely you have done your best. 
No one could ask more ; and as for the 
poor lad whose place you took, there 
are few who have been more faithful 
than he.” 

“It is for that very reason that I 
come' again,” said Augustina. “Never 

shall it be said that Felipe’s gun was 
292 


THE MAID OF ZAEAGOZA 


silent while I am able to stand beside 
it — and while Felipe guards it him- 
self/^ she added in a lower tone. She 
kneeled and looked long into the face of 
her dead comrade, and leaving the man- 
tilla still covering his face, walked stead- 
ily off, wiping away with her tired hand 
the few tears that fell over her cheeks. 

Bareheaded and alone, she walked to 
her home, climbed to the door of their 
rooms, and then, overcome with sorrow 
and fatigue, rushed in and threw her- 
self on her knees beside her mother. 

“Oh, my child, my dearest child 
and fondling and kissing her, her 
mother tried to give comfort and cheer 
to the weeping girl. 

“ To think that my little girl should 
be so brave ! and, child, how came you 
to know how to load and fire one of 
those fearful guns?’^ 

“ I saw Felipe do it, mother, and he 
293 


DEEDS OF DARING 


said that his gun spoke oftenest of any 
on the walls. So I saw to it that it 
did not become silent, that was all!^^ 

^‘Sit here, loved one’’; and Au- 
gustina’s mother put the tired girl into 
her own chair, and hurried away to get 
something for her to eat, and to light 
the brazier to warm her chilled frame, 
all her own weakness forgotten in the 
sight of her child’s sorrow. Nearly 
all the night they talked, the mother 
trying in vain to keep Augustina from 
her resolve to return and serve the 
cannon the next day. But Augustina 
simply said, — 

“ I promised Felipe before I left him, 
mother dear, and I must go. Besides, 
I must do my share, and there are few 
enough to help on the walls.” 

Seeing that the girl could not be won 
away from her idea of her duty, both 

to the dead and to her country, her 
294 


THE MAID OF ZAEAGOZA 


mother at last gave up trying to dis- 
suade her, and made her go to bed and 
try to sleep, so as to have strength for 
the coming day. 

But although Augustina lay quite 
still with closed eyes, she did not sleep. 
All through the hours she went over 
her childhood, and always, in every- 
thing, was Felipe. Each little pleasure 
which they had enjoyed together came 
vividly to her mind, — how they had 
studied and worked and played; and 
now — Even the very bobbins on her 
lace pillow were the work of his skilful 
fingers, and many of the comforts of 
their little home had been made or 
bought by him for her mother or herself. 

She could not bear to think of him 
lying on the rough stones of the wall, 
but the Captain had promised that the 
boy soldier should be laid to rest within 
the convent yard. 

295 


DEEDS OF DARING 


Would that we could do as much 
for each brave man who gives his life 
for his country!’^ the message ran. 

The grey dawn had hardly broken 
before Augustina had crept from her 
bed and down the stairs, and was 
hurrying towards her cannon and 
place on the walls. She was trying 
to forget her unhappy thoughts in 
the work which lay before her. The 
soldier who had taken her place was 
in worse condition than he had been 
the evening before, since the chill of 
the night and the strain of the work 
were far more than he, with wounds 
hardly healed, could stand. 

am shamed to give the place to 
you,” he said ; “ yet if I stay longer, 
I fear that I shall be of no use at all. 
I will report to the Captain and see 
that some one is sent here.” 

‘‘ It will be no use. I shall serve 
296 


THE MAID OF ZABAGOZA 


this gun to-day and every day, as long 
as Q-od wills, or till we conquer. I 
promised Felipe, and the Captain said 
it should be so.” 

Augustina turned away as if further 
argument was useless, and so it proved. 
Each day she took her place beside the 
gun where Felipe had met his death, 
and not only worked it with the skill 
and courage of a man, but inspired 
others, less stout of heart than she, to 
hold their places too. Indeed on more 
than one occasion she held the men in 
position by her words and her brav- 
ery, though, alas! poor Zaragoza had 
to yield at last to a power stronger 
than her own. 

After sixty days of incredible bravery, 
after countless repulses and endless 
suffering, they were overcome. Right 
beside the great convent of Santa 

Engracia, near which was the cannon 
2.97 


DEEDS OF DARING 


which was Augustina’s charge, the 
enemy made a breach in the walls. 
The French soldiers who worked at 
it were partially protected by the con- 
vent, and had wrought the mischief 
before the Spaniards were fully aware 
of what had happened. Augustina heard 
the noise of crumbling masonry at a 
distance, and ran along the wall in the 
direction of the sound. 

“Ah!’^ She caught her breath, for 
there, even as she looked, a score of 
the hated French were through. On 
they came, silent at first, leaping 
through the hole which the workers 
every moment made larger. They 
rushed in like a stream swollen by 
the spring rains, till ten thousand men 
at least had fiowed into the city. 

But do not think that these sons 
and daughters of Aragon gave in even 

then! Driven from the walls, they 
298 


THE MAID OF ZAEAGOZA 


used the housetops and the balconies 
as vantage grounds. Inch by inch only 
did they yield, and held off the enemy 
for twenty-one days longer, only giving 
in at last because they had actually no 
more soldiers left to fight. Such bravery 
and determination impressed even the 
victorious French, and the terms of 
capitulation granted were most honour- 
able and generous. 

Augustina lived through all these 
perils and many more, and was among 
the last to yield. Nor were her courage 
and her services to her country forgot- 
ten; all through Spain her name was 
known and loved. Nor was her fame 
confined to her own country, for her 
daring has been celebrated in many 
tongues. 

She lived full fifty years after her 
brave exploits on the walls of Zara- 
goza (she died in 1867), and by com- 
299 


DEEDS OF DABING 


mand of the government walked each 
fine day upon the Prado, her breast 
covered with medals and decorations, 
showing the esteem and honour in 
which she was held. 

Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale, 

Oh ! had you known her in her softer hour, 
Mark’d her black eye that mocks her coal-black 
veil. 

Heard her light, lively tones in Lady’s bower, 
Seen her long locks that foil the painter’s power, 
Her fairy form, with more than female grace. 
Scarce would you deem that Zaragoza’s tower 
Beheld her smile in danger’s Gorgon face, 

Thin the closed ranks, and lead in Glory’s fearful 
chase. 

Childe Harold. 


SOO 



NOV 8 1906 







